Growing up as a first-generation Italian-American, learning how to cook was a must. My favorite food was pasta and I learned by watching and helping out in the kitchen from a young age. It was truly an apprenticeship education. There were no measurements or -fixed ingredients, so you really couldn't make a mistake. Mom and Grandma cooked simple, inexpensive, and delicious homemade pastas and sauces for dinner. Like most immigrant families, we measured our wealth by the times we would sit around the kitchen table together enjoying our food and one another. I attribute much of my success to the life lessons imparted to me over a plate of pasta. Learning to cook was not a task I dreaded. It was so intertwined with the expression of love that we never thought to say we wouldn't try it. This book is just about pasta, and is directed at those who say they can't cook. I would like the novice, inexperienced, apprehensive cook to give cooking a chance. There is so much satisfaction in watching family and friends bond while enjoying a meal made from the heart. Nothing (well, maybe some diamonds) says I care and love you more than a home-cooked pasta meal.