A Warm Hug in a Bowl (Angel Hair with Butter, Romano & Peas)

After a whirlwind family trip to Chicago—complete with Wrigley magic, Italian beef, and Vinny Capra Day™—we came home bloated, tired, and over it. One warm, silky bowl of angel hair pasta with butter, peas, pancetta, and crispy breadcrumbs was all it took to feel human again. A reminder that coming home doesn’t have to be fancy—just real.

Lou LaMedica

Jun 19, 2025

TABLE OF CONTENTS

A Warm Hug in a Bowl

Angel Hair with Butter, Romano & Peas

We celebrated the end of school with a family trip to Chicago. It had all the makings of a perfect summer kickoff—baseball, Italian beef from Al’s #1, lake breeze, and long walks through the city.

Father’s Day at Wrigley was one for the books. We watched the Cubs walk it off in extras, and two days later caught a blowout at the White Sox game—a 12–2 beatdown by the Cardinals. It got so out of hand, Vinny Capra—hitting a crisp .098 on the season—came in to pitch the ninth. And it was glorious. He served up a 56-mph meatball that got blasted for a two-run homer, and my son was loving every second of it. A position player tossing batting practice in a real MLB game? Instant classic.

Capra even picked up a hit and an RBI earlier with a sac fly, so we gave it an official family name:

Vinny Capra Day™.

To top it all off?

We made it on TV during a bang-bang play at first base—front row, full crowd reaction, mouths wide open like we were extras in a baseball movie.

Pure joy.

As close to Ferris Bueller’s Day Off as a real family can get.

But by day four of nothing but restaurant food, my stomach was officially on strike.

Greasy, overloaded, and totally fed up, I wasn’t even craving food anymore—I just wanted to feel normal again.

Here’s the cycle most people don’t talk about:

🌀 The 4-Day Restaurant Food Slump™

Day 1: “Ooh let’s try this spot.” You’re pumped. Something fried, something saucy, maybe a cocktail. Vibes are high.

Day 2: “Okay, brunch and dinner out again. A little full, but whatever—vacation!”

Day 3: “I kind of want a vegetable that hasn’t been deep-fried or microwaved.” You start daydreaming about olive oil, lemon juice, and a perfectly cooked egg.

Day 4: “If I eat one more overpriced, under-seasoned thing I didn’t even want, I’m gonna snap.” You feel puffy, grumpy, and oddly disconnected from your own hunger.

What your body actually wants by then:

Clean starches (rice, farro, a proper piece of toast)

Cooked greens or beans

Balanced fat (not grease)

Something simple that doesn’t taste like five sauces fighting each other

We got home late. Everyone was tired, a little dazed, and ready to crash.

But first—we needed something real.

Something gentle.

Something familiar.

So I made this pasta.

It’s nothing fancy. In fact, it’s barely a recipe:

Angel hair

Butter

Pecorino Romano

A heaping 2 cups of frozen peas

A few spoons of cooked pancetta

Crispy breadcrumbs

And about 7 or 8 ladles of salty pasta water — stirred in like a lifeline

It all came together in one pot. I stirred vigorously to melt the cheese into the hot, starchy water. The butter and cheese emulsified into a silky sauce. The peas brought sweetness. The pancetta and breadcrumbs added crunch and depth.

But it wasn’t the flavors that made it special.

It was the feeling.

After days of eating out, this was our return-to-self moment.

It tasted like home. Like normal. Like enough.

Even the kids inhaled it—which is saying something.

And for me, it was a reminder:

Coming back doesn’t have to mean doing a lot.

Sometimes, it just means doing one thing well.

One pot. One bowl. One warm hug.

Third Grade, Forever

Lou LaMedica