When I was very young, I thought my father was Italian.
All of his friends were Italian with very, very Italian last names like Romano, De Luca, and Mancini. In fact, my godfather was an Italian man named Tyrone Fusani. We dined on delicious Italian dishes of with sauces to die for made with tomatoes and basil picked from their gardens. Savory cured meats and cheeses accompanied baskets full of fresh breads, and it wasn't until I was a teenager that I stopped thinking that every bottle of wine had wicker around its base.
Last night was a night meant for familiar comfort food to fight off the chill of the wind and rainstorms of the evening. I needed something quick and simple - spaghetti and meatballs, eh? The problem was not that I didn't know how to boil water, and I've given up making sauce after finding a much better, pre-made option, but I've never made a meatball. You'd think they were just balls of ground meat, right? Apparently things go in the meat first. Some breadcrumbs, garlic, an egg, and a great use for the oregano that's growing like a weed in my tiny garden. They were easy enough, though: mix, roll, and pop them in the oven for about 20 minutes.
Mangia!
And then did you exclaim “Mama Mia That’s A Spicy Meat-a-Ball!”?
Lol. No, but now that I’m thinking about it they probably could have used a bit of red pepper…