My Mother's Spaghetti

Not many of us would turn down a good bowl of spaghetti, right? Especially our mom's. But how many of us would be crazy enough to tell the chef what to add or subtract from the ingredients or how to "plate it" once it was finished on the stove? I think probably the only one we could get by doing those antics to would be our mom? Other chefs might go Chef Ramsey on us but, in fact, some moms might dump their concoctions on top of our heads if we squawk too much, so fair warning!

My mom took it all in, but still did it "her way" like the old Italian crony, Frank Sinatra in his song. (Just so you get a workable idea of who my mom was, this theme applied to most aspects of her entire character throughout her life.) I have to admit, when listening to this, I find a lump in my throat. I miss that woman and her ways.

If I were to describe my mother's recipe, it would be: distinct and tasty. I loved the aroma of the finely chopped onions, garlic, green bell peppers, and celery being sauteed in real sweet butter. She might have added mushrooms???

I can't remember if she used canned tomatoes for the stock or if she chose to experiment with the newly marketed products like a Ragu or a Prego. I think I remember her adding a small can of tomato paste, though...which I deemed altogether too bitter for my taste buds. (To this day, I avoid the paste, but add a bit of brown sugar in my homemade sauce.)

My brother balked at the celery. I have no idea why? I could hardly taste it. "Celery. Who puts celery in their spaghetti sauce? Mama did."

(Much later I learned that it was chock full of high fiber and other nutrients, but I doubt Mama knew this at the time.) Celery is supposed to add a sweetness to flavor, but maybe she didn't add enough? Sometimes her spaghetti had a mild aftertaste. Sorry, Mom...

My sister had a problem with my mom adding Bay leaves in her pot (or witchy brew.) "Well I liked it except I didn't like to bite into bay leaves. I didn't understand they weren't edible the first few times and I guess she didn't take them out." "I liked the black olives, though."

I liked the black olives in there, too. But sometimes she'd put green olives, too. Yuk! They belong in martinis, not spaghetti, Mama! No Bay leaves for me, either...they belong in seafood (another food I don't eat.) And if she added mushrooms, that's on my No-No list, as well....they only go in a beef pot roast, but only for flavor.

My brother: "I would eat Mama's spaghetti and just pick out the things I didn't like."

Maybe the recipe changed a bit depending on the amount of beer that she had consumed? Mama did love her beer! Who knows...maybe she added a bit of that? (Probably not....she wouldn't have wasted that treat on any sauce.)

Now the plating was another source of discontent...from my brother: "When I became a teenager, I noticed how other families would put the noodles on the plate first and then the sauce on top of the spaghetti. But she kept mixing everything together. She had her ways."

(My sister probably cared less. She was the baby and her imagination made stories about things on her plate, anyway. If Mama had added meatballs, she'd sing "On Top of Old Smoky," and roll them down the mountain of noodles. I prefer mine being mixed. It tastes better that way to me.)

**Oh, my! Is this song really appropriate for children? Now that I listen to it so many years later, I think not...but we did listen back then and don't think we were phased at all by the lyrics...we just liked the catchy tune.)

So that brings us to Parmesan on top of the spaghetti. My brother says, "She used Kraft Parmesan cheese from the can." I probably chose not to remember that because I hate that, too. No-No!

But Mama wasn't Italian, so I went to my "sources" to fairly judge the quality of her recipe. You see, my sons are a quarter Italian with their roots found in Cefalu, Italy (pronounced: Che-faah-loo.) Their great-Memaw might have cooked this old spaghetti and "sardine" recipe from her hometown:

Now I'm thinking we didn't have it so bad after all? Mama's spaghetti wasn't the worst we could have experienced. Sometimes I'm glad I'm American :) Don't think I'll be adding sardines to my sauce anytime soon! Love you and your spaghetti, Mama!

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