Pasta - Basta

There are two kinds of stores that attract and keep my attention at every visit: the hardware store and the not so routine food store. You all being homeowners I know you are very well acquainted with the geography of every hardware store in your neighborhood, so I won't dwell on this subject today. It may come up later, here, when reminiscences take over again.
So the subject starts with, but does not center on not so routine food stores. These are stores that either specialize in something, like the one and only Tienda Lili, about halfway between Goldsboro and Belleville on Rt. 111 in the Neuse River basin. Or Aldi. Not many other names occur to me in this context. Protest! I can take it.
Some weeks ago I browsed Aldi in Kinston, NC. Every time I enter one of these stores I set one half of my taste buts on repeat and the other half on zero (meaning 'freely receptive', because Aldi may or may not have what I found likable before and want again, or it might have something new, something that reminds me of 'the old days' or something I've never before experienced. The repeats might be every-day things and the 'reminders' might be seasonal, like the German Stollen they sell around Christmas time.
But if there is something new, I'm usually a found victim! About 1-1/2 years ago  I found some oh so great balsamic vinegar de Modena and bought one little bottle, took it to Kaarin's house and dropped it on the kitchen counter with the remark "Let's try this, it's the only one I got and if you like it you keep it and I get me one of my own on the way back'. You see, I had tasted many Balsamic Vinegars before. I had tasted them as a boy in Switzerland and as a growing man in Italy and even in Modena and also in Virginia Beach, where Laurie introduced me to a store that specializes in olive oils and vinegars. I had developed a set of taste buds that would vibrate excitedly when the real thing was coming their way. Searching, and trying, I had learned that most of the ones from grocery stores, even the ones labeled 'de Modena', where just that: vinegar. The label "Modena" has a definitive meaning and if you search the web you will find more information than I have the ability to pass on here. Not all Balsamic Vinegar de Modena is created equal! The kind of vinegar that I was hankering for always cost in the vicinity of $124 per table spoon and since I have resolved to keep my income on an honest and survivable basis I was not even able to try with a drop or even a sniff at the cork if that was the Balsamic Vinegar that matched my wants.
Side-note: You do recognize poetic freedom when you come across it, don't you? Now that freedom I am taking here does not extend to the concept of honesty, which is absolute. End of side-note.
So, here we had what Aldi had imported and we tried it and it passed. The cost was within my Soc. Sec. budget. On a ladder of 1 - 100 it might have reached step 75, or thereabouts, but if you envision (purists, please skip to the next paragraph) this as an approximation to Jacobs' ladder,  the 75th rung would still be below cloud level. Still, you already can hear the heavenly host singing above the clouds.
But when I came back to that store, the shelf was empty and I had to contend with more grocery store vinegar in my kitchen. In a way I am glad they sold out so quickly. It means I'm not living in an entirely strange land but have neighbors with tastes similar to mine.
Driving into Vermont two weeks ago I stopped at Aldi's in Bennington to stock up for my hermitage on Townhill, and, wouldn't you believe it, they had balsamic de Modena. Different label, but I trust them! It's great! I keep it for special occasions which is a once a day plate with green leaves, and after I finished my salad I sometimes drink the liquor in the bottom of the bowl.
Also, and that brings us closer to one half of the subject suggested by the title of this blog, I saw a shelf with bags of something named "Capunti". The content in the bag looked like a miscarriage of Spätzle, but they were so uniform and so unblemished that I decided they must be by design what they look like. The label on the bag introduced them as an Italian pasta. With my lifelong love affair with the Italian kitchen I have never come across Capunti. At least I do not remember that I have. On research I find that it is, of course, an Italian pasta and I will have to do some more research to find out more, but since I have tied up so much of your time already, let's make this short: I bought a bag, which came with a bag of spices attached and today I cooked it. I followed instructions and cut four grilled, boneless chicken breasts into the bowl and started lunch. Late lunch, that is. I also had a glass or two of Paisano which is still, after so many decades, one of my most favored wines. The others I would not be able to name without looking them up. They come and leave again but Paisano stays. It fits most perfectly with pasta dishes with, or without tomato based sauces. Only if a mess of seafood is mixed in with the pasta would I consider a different wine.
You ought to try this! They say on the bag that the contents will produce six to eight servings. At the rate I am enjoying this, four will be the maximum stretch. Capunti, if you go on the web, will give you the most basic assurance that this is pasta and then go right along into the preparation of the prefabricated product and the ways you can serve it. There even is a site where a guy said he came across Capunti and how would you serve it? To his excuse, his post is eight years old. Enlightenment has flooded the web since.
Now, I think, I am ready for another plate of Capunti with chicken and Paisano. As the Italians say: Basta! that is an exclamation like the stomp of your mother's foot when she told you, years ago, for the fifth time to go clean your room; or to go to bed. It means, in words: 'that's it', but with absolute emphasis and totally intolerant finality. I like it just like Italian food: you know what you're up against - or with.