Don't Cut the Spaghetti!

“Non tagliare gli spaghetti!” screamed the chef. “Stupida donna Americana!” All of the Italians in the restaurant roared with laughter. My friends all stared at me in horror. What had I done?

“He says ‘Don’t cut the spaghetti,’” explained an English-speaking patron loudly from the other side of the restaurant.

The chef grabbed my fork and showed me how to curl the spaghetti pasta around it. “You see!” he shouted. His crazed eyes were only inches from my face. If the other patrons had not been belly-laughing, I would have been afraid for my life, as he held the fork up in the air like a dagger.

“You eat now!” He handed me the fork and watched as I took a bite. “Now you do!” he ordered with his arms folded in frustration. I carefully curled the pasta around my fork and looked up at him. He nodded. Then, he marched toward the kitchen before turning back to us. “Stupidi americani!” he yelled again, pointing at our group of tables in the back of the restaurant. The patrons all roared with laughter again.

My high school government teacher had brought me and 19 of my closest friends to Europe in December of 1981. The “Spaghetti Incident” happened on the second day of our three days in Venice. We had hopped on a boat to Murano Island, Italy’s glass-blowing island, that morning and were on a mission to expand our culinary horizons.

The day before, we had gone to the Basilica San Marco to participate in a traditional Latin service. We sat in folding chairs in the first two rows, which was unfortunate because we were exhausted from our travels and, not understanding a word of Latin, struggled to pay attention. My friend Mark, now (40 years later) a renowned surgeon, was sitting directly in front of me when he suddenly lost his battle with sleep and started tipping over, taking his chair with him. I tried to catch him, but I’ve never really been good at catching anything, so over he went. It wouldn’t have been so bad if we hadn’t all been too delirious to maintain our composure.

We were still laughing about Mark in San Marco’s when the Spaghetti Incident occurred. Our little Italian adventure ended up being just one incident after another. On the third day of our whirlwind trip to Venice, we boarded a train that would take us to Paris and were poised at the precipice of our final infamous incident involving outrageously embarrassing American failures. This one was called the Cheap Italian Wine Incident and resulted in our group being referred to in derogatory terms yet again. Several of my friends who were partaking of the cheap Italian wine had never tried alcohol before. However, since this is a story about amazing Italian food, I won’t describe the stomach issues that ensued between Venice and Paris that night.

Our European adventures have lived on vividly in all of our memories, and most of us are still friends to this day. One of my ways of reliving these adventures has been to recreate some of the extraordinary meals I had along the way. Once I had children, we began the tradition of having classic Italian spaghetti and meatballs after their first day of school every year. I had found a recipe that resembled the meal I had on Murano Island and taught my kids how to curl their spaghetti around their forks from a very young age.

My classic Italian spaghetti and meatballs recipe can be made as described below.

Gather the following ingredients: High-quality spaghetti pasta, a quart of tomato sauce, enough fresh basil for about 3 tablespoons when chopped, two tablespoons of minced garlic, equal parts lean ground beef and lean ground pork (about a pound of each), a cup of Italian breadcrumbs (or a crusty baguette), two eggs, Italian parsley, a white onion, a half cup of olive oil, Romano or Parmesan cheese, and salt and pepper.

Get your sauce cooking first. Combine the tomato sauce, chopped fresh basil, a tablespoon of the minced garlic, ¼ cup of olive oil, ¼ cup of chopped white onion, and salt and pepper to taste (about 2 teaspoons of each). If you like your sauce a bit spicy, add a tablespoon of red pepper flakes. Put the mixture in a large pot, cover, and cook on low while you are making the meatballs.

Note: Since I am able to grow basil, parsley, and tomatoes in my garden, I often use these fresh ingredients. However, if you use fresh tomatoes, you have to remove the skins, remove some of the excess liquid (before cooking), and add more salt, and then you must cook it a bit longer than you would need to cook the canned sauce.

To create your meatballs, add the ground beef, ground pork, chopped parsley, eggs (beaten first), the breadcrumbs, the rest of the chopped onion, the rest of the minced garlic, and ½ cup of freshly grated Romano or parmesan cheese. Mix all ingredients with your clean hands, and then cover and place in the refrigerated until the mixture has hardened slightly (about an hour).

Take a break, drink a glass of good Italian Cabernet, and let the sauce simmer.

Once the meatball mixture has hardened, form the meatballs to your desired size. I prefer the larger meatballs (about an inch and a half or so across). Poor the remained olive oil in a pan, and turn the burner to high. Once the oil is hot, place the meatballs careful into the pan. Allow the meatballs to brown on all sides until it has a bit of a crust. Then, place the meatballs carefully into your sauce mixture and allow them to finish cooking fully and take on the spiciness of the sauce for about 30 minutes to an hour.

Make the pasta as directed on the package. You will not want the pasta to get too soft, so check it often.

Once the pasta has been drained, your spaghetti plate is ready to assemble. Please the meatballs and sauce atop the pile of spaghetti, and sprinkle shaved or grated Romano or Parmesan over the top (as much as desired). This dish is best served with a salad and garlic bread.

Now that we know how to make classic Italian spaghetti, we need to make sure that all civilized people will know to NEVER cut their spaghetti pasta. Practice with your kids and other potentially uncivilized family members and guests.

If you go to Venice or Murano, please apologize for me and my friends, for all our shenanigans. Those Italians are special people. They laugh until they cry, and they are passionate just by nature. I loved every minute of my three days there and long to return. I have tried to live up to their expectations for the last 40 years of my life.