“Have you ever been to Carbone?” she asks, referencing a New York establishment famed for its version, with which everyone is obsessed because they haven’t yet tasted Halsey’s. Today, she’s making a spicy rigatoni, a dish in which she takes much pride. And this being L.A., “It kind of stressed me the fuck out because I was like, ‘Of the four trays of ziti I’m cooking, which one’s vegan? Which one’s gluten-free?’ ” A few days back, she’d thrown friends an Easter feast of “baked ziti, rosemary rack of lamb, garlic Parmesan chicken, angel-hair pasta, meatballs, a fillet, mashed potatoes, bacon-wrapped asparagus, green beans and roasted potatoes,” she says. “I’m kind of on autopilot,” she says over her shoulder, blade flashing. Today she is wielding it against a cucumber, which would seem like a joke or a meme - given her man-eater rep in the pop-star pantheon - were it not for the bowls of lettuce idling nearby. This may come as a surprise to no one, but Halsey is pretty good with a knife.
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