Can You Cacio That?

The answer is almost always yes.

At least one morning during the school week, some time between 11:00 and 11:30, my daughter, Abby, a 12th grader who has spent her final year of high school almost entirely in a remote classroom, comes downstairs in her flannel pajama pants, stretches, looks at whichever parent is first in her line of vision with fluttery eyelids, and says: “Cacio?”

We know now that this is short for “cacio e pepe,” the simplest, purest of Roman pasta dishes (“cheese and pepper”), and when it’s done right, it can be transcendent. Like you just can’t believe such basic ingredients add up to something so perfect. It’s unclear exactly how much Abby has learned in school in the past few months, but I sleep easy knowing she’s at least learned this basic truth in our kitchen.

I realize how absurd it is that we even entertain the request — both of her parents have their heads buried in keyboards or zoom calls, we are still riding the caffeine wave from our morning coffee, and cacio e pepe involves bowls and po…