Or Spa-Peggy and Meatballs. Anyone? Anyone?

Okay, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a hard-core carb-lover here; pasta and bread are my ultimate comfort food. And does it really get any more homey and comforting than spaghetti and meatballs? Not in my world!

I didn’t actually eat spaghetti and meatballs, like, ever growing up; my family was more of the “mix a pound of ground beef with a jar of Ragu” kind of clan, which is totally fine. But there was a woman in my neighborhood who was married to an Italian and whenever there was a family that needed a meal, she would take them spaghetti with her homemade meatballs and sauce. Our family was never on the receiving end of her meatballs, but I heard about them and I longed for them.

During my senior year of high school, there was a major crisis in our family. At that time, I was in our school musical and since, you know, the show must go on and all that, I had obligations I had to fulfill even though some things at home had fallen apart. After a particularly long night, I heard that this woman had brought our family spaghetti and meatballs and I couldn’t wait to get home and finally try them.

I got home. It was gone. Eaten. I’m not sure I can describe the feeling of loss I experienced–I’d been hoping for one simple pleasure all night and got to eat a bowl of cereal instead.

I never got to try this woman’s spaghetti and meatballs and I never got her recipe (I’m pretty sure it would have to be pried from her lifeless grip, anyway), but if I were to imagine my perfect spaghetti and meatballs, this would be it. With lots and lots to spare so no one’s stuck with a bowl of Lucky Charms.



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