Writing 220: Shrimp Pesto Pasta

I walk into my home for the first time in months. Immediately, I”m attacked by my excited family members, my springing dog, and the loud ding of the door alarm. It’s utter chaos, but amidst it all, there is always one thing that never fails to consume my attention: the sweet smell of my father’s coking.

In honor of my arrival, I can smell that he’s cooking my favorite meal. Garlic and olive oil aromas cut through the air and shoot straight into my nose; I hear the crackling of the fresh shrimp sizzling on the hot sauté pan.

I make my way further into the house — each room introducing me to different aspects of this perfect meal. I begin to smell the starchiness of pasta being cooked in boiling water. As the hum of the food processor begins, my nose is drawn to the fresh basil that was being pulverized with the sharpness of fresh parmesan cheese. These smells never fail to make me feel at home, for the promise a night’s worth of good food, family, and fun.

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