Store-bought? Blasphemy. The wheat, I harvested it, in the old ways, scythe razor sharp and back firm. The cheese, from cows I first midwifed and nurtured, and once grown, gently milked, and the milk I curdled in my own hands. These tortellini I was first to name, for before me they crossed our lips as spaghetti, or still prior, as sketty, all noodles of the pasta variety subsumed thusly.