As he is sure to make repeated appearances on this blog, I’d like to dedicate this post to my dear, wonderful FB.  Il Boy, The Hubby, Mentino, or more recently known as Pedro The Pornstar.

One Saturday morning a few weeks ago, he decided to grow a mustache.  I must admit, I am not a fan of growing hair above ones lip.  I have spent many a painful evening eliminating such hairs from my own face, why someone would choose to grow it out is beyond me.

Generally, people seem to like it.  Some may even call it “trendy”.  Nevermind the obvious  porn star reference, I can’t help but find a striking resemblance to the bristles of the AMA street-cleaning truck.

Still, Pedro is my wonderful and official taster of all concoctions brewing in the kitchen.  He is perfect for the job as his tongue is sharp, he knows good food, and he will eat anything and everything.  Natto, trippa, do-jou.  He’s not too keen about ketchup but I’m a mustard-on-fries kinda girl myself.

He’s the kind of person who calls himself “The Ultimate Dancing Machine”, a self-proclaimed skinny-jean-wearing hipster and huge Ramones fan that readily admits to listening to (and liking!) Justin Bieber, makes the best carbonara I have ever had, and always, always compliments my cooking, no matter how simple or te-nuki.

We’ve just finished eating our lunch – warm pasta salad with salsicce, fava beans, and pecorino romano – and he looks over from washing the dishes.

“Whatcha saying about me?”

I turn around and notice that there is a piece of pecorino cheese hanging off one of his mustache hairs. Sigh.


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