Spaghetti and meatballs for Sunday dinner was a tradition when I was growing up. As we left for church on Sunday mornings, we could smell meatballs filled with garlic and fresh parsley simmering in tomato sauce on the stove. The meatballs were so tender by the time we ate dinner that they practically melted in our mouths.
My mother, Emma, still makes perfect meatballs. Her meatballs are eagerly anticipated at every party and the occasional, traditional Sunday dinner. Mom learned to cook from her mother, an Italian immigrant and passed that knowledge down to my brother, sisters, and me.
One of the most important lessons we learned was how to roll a meatball. I rolled thousands of meatballs growing up. We made two different sizes. The medium sized ones were served with pasta, and they had to be rolled between your palms until smooth. If mom saw any cracks or odd shapes, they would be given back to us to try again. The tiny ones, about the size of a marble, were made to be added to wedding soup and lasagna.
It took a great deal of time and patience to sit at the kitchen table and roll those tiny meatballs but it became a treasured time as we shared conversation and laughter. And the delicious result was worth it!
One of the stories mom told us, as we rolled meatballs, always broke my heart. She said that when she was growing up in the 1930’s her family ate pasta every day, even holidays. Sadly, it was a time when children of immigrants were teased at school. So instead of being proud of her Italian heritage, my mother tried not to call attention to it. She told of an elementary school experience where the teacher asked the children what they ate on Thanksgiving Day. One after the other said, “turkey and mashed potatoes.” When my mom’s turn came, she shyly said, “turkey and mashed potatoes” too, knowing full well that they ate spaghetti and meatballs on Thanksgiving.
My daughter, Emelia, gave my mother a more pleasant elementary school memory when she asked to share her grandma’s special spaghetti and meatballs with her fifth grade class—instead of the usual birthday treat of donuts or cupcakes. Her teacher agreed to the lunch and it was enjoyed by all. And I wasn’t surprised when I heard my daughter’s friends say the spaghetti and meatballs my mother made were the best they ever had. After all, I knew it all along.
Ingredients
Instructions
Ingredients
Instructions
