Meatballs and Sauce

It is funny why we do certain things we do. How much of who we are and what we do is shaped by our parents. How we adopt different qualities and habits from them. Even ones we hated as children we find ourselves doing as adults.

Last night, my sister's family and mine sat down for dinner to remember our Daddy. Over the last 5 years we have frequented various restaurants in the area he enjoyed (the man loved a chinese buffet) but this year I decided to cook. For quite some time after I got married my daddy would have Spaghetti Sunday at his house. He would make sauce from scratch, roll meatballs and have some sort of pasta or spaghetti. He then would invite everyone he knew! You can after all always throw more pasta on the stove.

Sauce was a big deal to my daddy. He always made his own and he very rarely ate anything with a red sauce out. When we were visiting the venue for my wedding reception, he sat down at the bar to discuss some points with the owner of the club and promptly asked him to taste his sauce. This is something that had never been requested before but the owner graciously went to the back and brought out some sauce and bread. My daddy would deem the sauce acceptable and sign the contract for the venue. When we got outside I asked him what he really thought of the sauce and he said "Its pretty fucking good sauce."

One of my proudest moments was when my own sauce was declared "pretty fucking good sauce." But why would it not be I studied at the knee of the master. I loved cooking with and for my daddy. My pasta salad was called a taste adventure. I packed it so full of stuff that no two bites were the same. I was allowed to help with the preparations for La Vigilia (Feast of Seven Fishes) on Christmas Eve. And sometimes he would ask me to make him something I made for him before. (highest praise)

One afternoon I went over to make sauce and meatballs with him and while we were rolling the meatballs I asked him why he rolled his meatballs so big. When I say so big, I am talking a meatball the size of a regulation tennis ball.

Does it have to do with keeping them so moist? No
Do they hold their shape better in the sauce? No
Is it better for them when you are baking them in the oven? No.

Then why are you rolling them so big?

The answer was simple. He hated rolling meatballs. So instead of rolling 20-25 little ones, he made 10 big ones! And they were awesome!

He was also the pioneer of the Pink Scrambled Eggs and Poundcake and Pudding dessert, but those my dears are stories for another day.