I thought I blogged this morning. Apparently not. Oops.
My parents are here and thanks to my Sicilian father, my house smells delish. There are two trays of fat meatballs baking in the oven. Soon, they'll be transferred into the vat of bubbling red sauce on the stovetop. Sunday gravy we call that.
Tonight's dinner? Rigatoni with meatballs, caprese salad (with my own homegrown basil), green beans and crusty garlic bread. Mmmm...
Now that's what I call earning your keep. Who cares if I have to diet after they leave? Homemade meatballs are a gift. You never turn them down.
Ever.
Oh, and I thought I envied you before! To give you an idea of what my mother likes to produce when she visits, let me tell you about the fab new sandwich she called to brag about yesterday, her own special invention: smoked ham, cream cheese, raspberry jelly, mayonnaise, and horseradish on whole wheat.
ReplyDeleteNauseating, isn't it?
That sounds delicious :)
ReplyDeleteMy boys have decided you should include your dad in the next package you send. :-)
ReplyDeleteYummy, what a blessing he must be. I may have to change the name of my wayward boy in Gutter now, or teach him to cook rigatoni :-)
Oh, man. That sounds seriously good. Anytime he wants to come cook for me, you just let me know and I'll put out the welcome mat.
ReplyDeleteRobin, you can keep your mom's cooking up north.. you're scaring me.
Meatballs. Amen.
ReplyDelete