That pasta is perciatelli. Each piece of perciatelli is like a strand of spaghetti with a tiny tunnel down the long way, or (to think of it another way) the world's thinnest, longest macaroni. Fred Meyer carries a Kroger brand "Private Selection" variety of it; I'd gotten it before, saved the strands in the taller of my two pasta holders, discarded the bag the strands had come in, and proceeded to eat it in several meals and to think Huh. I like this. What was it?
There are greater mysteries to life than good pasta, but still. I wanted to be sure. I am now.
I had some more of the perciatelli with today's lunch. I prepared it simply: boiled, drained, and with a little basic canola oil drizzled on top, followed by grated pepper-jack cheese and ground pepper. Simple, and satisfying. I wonder how the tunnel in each strand affects the preparation: is the pasta more thoroughly boiled, in and out? However it became ready for eating, the pasta was substantial, as it should be, and a pleasure to eat.
Perciatelli. My limited food vocabulary has further expanded.