“Actually, that’s exactly why. Macaroni pasta was fancy foreign stuff in England back then. So ‘macaroni’ became slang for anything ridiculously fashionable, and man, these dudes were that. They decked themselves out in the flashiest clothes—big hair, feathers, the works. People thought they were hella over the top. There were rumors that some of them might have even been gay.”
“This is wild,” Micah said. “They didn’t cover this in any history class I took.”
Wild was right. This had to be the strangest conversation I’d ever been privy to. When Vincent hosted a guys’ night, the discussion inevitably veered into either super pretentious territory or sports, neither of which I found particular engaging. This, though, fascinated me, the way Luke shared his knowledge even more so.
Vincent had this insistent need to flaunt his intelligence, using it to establish himself as superior to everyone else in the room. After our bathroom encounter at the club, Vincent had sneered at Luke’s position, quick to label him as dumb, saying something about “a thick-necked door guard who probably needed pictures to follow instructions.” He’d assumed Luke was all muscle, no mind, useful only for standing still and looking intimidating. I wished I could shove back in his arrogant, classist face how wrong his assumption was. Luke was clearly intelligent, but unlike Vincent he didn’t use it to position himself as better than anyone. He didn’t brag about it but imparted it to others.
“Hang on. There’s more,” Luke continued. “That’s why Yankee Doodle slaps a feather in his cap and calls it macaroni. It began as an insult to us country bumpkin American hicks, but in classic fashion, we reclaimed it and it became the unofficial anthem of the American army during the Revolution.”
“Yeah, they definitely didn’t cover this in my history lessons on the Revolutionary War,” Ezra said. “Oliver, did you know this?”
My cheeks warmed at being included by someone other than Luke, definitely not something any of Vincent’s friends would have done. They made it a point to exclude me from their conversations, not worthy enough to be involved. “No. I mean, I know the song of course, but I always thought it was just a catchy tune for kids. I didn’t realize it had any cultural significance.”
“Are you certain this isn’t fabricated?” Ezra asked, glancing to Luke.
“I’m tellin’ you. It’s one hundred percent true.”
“He’s right,” I said, scrolling on my phone and reading aloud from a history site that confirmed it.
“See? Ollie backing my knowledge receipts! That’s my guy. Co-pilot status confirmed,” Luke said, holding out his fist for a bump.
My guy. I liked the sound of that a little too much.Like it all you want, it’s never going to happen.
“Well, you learn something new every day,” Ezra said. “But I want to know how you know that.”
“I told you, man. My gay cultural and historical knowledge is elite.”
“I’m not sure if that can be claimed as gay historical knowledge. I think what it is, is a little factoid from your personal museum of absurd trivia,” Ezra said.
“And I welcome you to the exhibit with open arms. Touch everything. But for real, ‘macaroni’ is the best. In name alone.You can’t say it without smiling. Here, I’ll prove it.” He turned to me. “Hey, Oliver, guess what? You’re a macaroni, and I mean that as the utmost compliment.”
“No, you’re a macaroni,” I said with a giggle.
“See, my dudes, macaroni comes with its own sense of humor, in word and history. And we can’t leave out the fact that it’s the OG content creator of comfort food.”
“Well, you’ve certainly made your case. I’m sold.” Micah said.
“Damn right you are. They should put me on payroll at Barilla. I could sell pasta to an Italian grandma. Or better yet, I’ll start my own pasta company. I’ll call it ‘Pastativity.’ Pasta that’s not just good for the gut but good for your soul.”
Ezra smirked. “Changing lives one noodle at a time?”
“You know it. Every box would come with little affirmations printed on the inside flap,” Luke said. “Stuff like, ‘you are al dente enough’ or ‘even when you’re a tangled mess, you’re still worth twirling for.’”
“Just because you’ve been through boiling water doesn’t mean you’ve lost your shape,” I offered.
“Nice one, Ollie! Naturally, the marketing manager would come up with the perfect affirmation. In fact, we gotta go into this business together. Both of us, or no dice,” Luke said.
Compliments were another thing Luke gave me on a consistent basis, insisting what I had to offer was valuable and impressive. I would have been inclined to believe that he did it because of my situation, but it never came across as disingenuous. His tone held genuine enthusiasm and often a hint of pride when he delivered his praise.
“How about, ‘you’re saucy in all the right ways,’” Ezra added, waggling his eyebrows at Micah.
Micah batted his arm with a playful smile. “I cannelloni imagine how great you’re going to do today.”
“You are pasta-lively extraordinary,” Luke said.
A timer went off.
“That’ll be the pilaf,” Micah said, turning to the stove.
