So, when I was back in Mass. for Melissa's birthday, a lot of cooking was happening for her party. I made spinach and pesto lasagne. Matt and Mel had some of the ingredients already, we had to buy others. One of the ingredients that we did not buy were lasagne noodles; Mel had a box of Barilla oven-ready noodles that she had meant to use once but had never gotten around to. She did caution me that they were old. I was like, its pasta. What could happen?
After our marathon grocery shopping trip I set out to make the lasagne. I sloshed some sauce into the bottom of the pan and started laying noodles down. The fourth noodle dropped a rather alarming sort of powdery mess into the pan. Wha? Closer examination revealed that this mess was in fact A PILE OF DEAD, DESSICATED BUG. Oh my god. Of course I started shrieking (as I do), and Mel and I extricated the remaining noodles (which actually had some holes in them, I should have noticed) with a pair of tongs. And then washed the lasagne pan better than it has probably ever been washed in its life.
You can imagine the sense of deja vu and abject horror I felt when I read this article and the blog entry that it links to.