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Soon, Kate and Nick were in the kitchen, aprons on, knives in hand. She was slicing tomatoes, and he was chopping onions. Bacon was sizzling under the broiler, and chicken was cooking on the stovetop grill. A pot of pasta water was heating on one burner, a stainless steel pan was warming on another, and in a saucepan, butter was melting. “What are we making, exactly?” Nick asked. “Cheesy pasta with onion, bacon, tomato, spinach, and chicken,” she said. “Comfort food. I thought we could both use a dose of it. My own famous recipe. Here, hand me those onions, will you? And get the milk out of the fridge?” As the pasta bubbled in the water, Kate began sautéing the onions. “This’ll be your job,” she said to Nick, handing him the spatula and stepping away from her post in front of the pan. “Caramelize. Don’t burn. And then add the tomatoes and, last, the spinach.” “Yes, ma’am.” He smiled. While he was doing that, Kate added a few tablespoons of flour to the melted butter in the saucepan and stirred to make a roux. To that, she added the milk and the shredded cheese. Ten minutes later, they were back at their table with heaping bowls of pasta in front of them.
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