Shaping Pasta, Shaping Lives

As the ending credits rolled, I found myself tearing up unexpectedly. It wasn't a Korean tear-jerker, or even a romcom.

It was a show about pasta makers.

The chef described his journey of falling in love with pasta making, being in Italy for 6 months, immersed in learning - every, single, day. The euphoria and enthusiasm of finding his flow in the repetitive movements. Getting the feel for the dough and creating unforgettable flavours. The excitement of starting his first restaurant, dedicated purely to handmade pasta. And then it went bust. Even though it was packed and wildly popular. His business partner had absconded with all their money, leaving him in massive debt. The only way out was to close the restaurant and file for bankruptcy. He reflected on how he received warnings from well intentioned people around him. But he was so obsessed with his craft that he thought it was fine to overlook everything else as long as he focused on the food.

After being lost and adrift for 6 months, he finally went back to work, flipping burgers to pay off his debt. The experience in someone else's kitchen, executing someone else's vision, made him realise that was not how he wanted to live. Purpose renewed, he set out to find a mentor, and learnt the essential business aspects of running a restaurant.

Edward Funke overcame the setbacks to become the owner of multiple successful Italian restaurants today, winning many culinary awards in the process. However, it was not his dramatic rising from the ashes that moved me.

What made me cry was when he explained what's printed on the menu of his new handmade pasta restaurant. He lists the provenance of each pasta shape, the region it comes from, the city he encountered it, and most importantly, the name of the Italian woman who taught it to him.

He explained how Italian women continue the culinary legacy of their regions by teaching the pasta shapes unique to their hometowns, passing down techniques that were also lovingly imparted by generations of women who came before them. The mixing, kneading, rolling, and pressing of delicate forms, mastered only with decades of dedication and practice. He lamented about how they rarely received recognition for it. Sharing their cities, pasta shapes, and names was his small gesture of honouring the heritage he was so generously welcomed into.

Watching that episode, I began to think, "who are the people who have shaped my life"?

A friend who's always had time to listen when I was down.

Another family member who remembers my birthday without fail, even without social media reminders.

A junior that inspired me in the community sector.

One by one, I sent them each a message, sharing that specific memory I now hold with deeper appreciation and gratitude. After the texts were sent, I was suddenly plagued by doubt, "isn't this so abrupt!", or "maybe they'd already forgotten?"

However, after the initial silence and surprise, the warmth of the replies put to bed any remaining awkwardness I felt.

This weekend, when you feel the urge to pick up your phone and doom scroll through a social media platform, try this instead:

Think of 3 people who have really supported or encouraged you in the past week or fortnight.

Even if it feels a little new or strange, send a voice note or text message. Share what they did and how it made you feel.

Perhaps you might not get a reply. Perhaps it might powerfully shift this relationship. Who knows what could happen until you try?

If this brought moments of beautiful connection for you, consider making it part of your routine! After all, meaningful conversation don't always have to begin with deep questions. Sometimes, it starts with simply sharing how you feel. 

Shihui writes about meaningful conversations because they nourish our lives and relationships so fundamentally. If you are curious about what else they can unlock, check out the surest way of having better conversations or how you can genuinely support someone in a difficult moment.