Mambo Italiano Go, Go, Go!

I can remember when I fell in love with Spaghetti and Meatballs. I was 6 years old when I first saw Lady and the Tramp. There was something so sweet and endearing about the way those lovable canines shared that meal. Of course, most will remember the ever-so-innocent kiss that took place via pasta- but mostly what I found unforgettable was the food looking downright delicious.

I was craving comfort food this weekend so naturally I had to whip some up for myself. The entire process was therapeutic. I rolled carefully down the aisles at the grocery- sans purse, which is a rarity for me. I just wanted to be completely unburdened while shopping, so I stuffed my wallet into the front pocket of my green hoodie and rustled up a cart. Sidebar: Why must I ALWAYS grab the cart with the one wheel that won't comply with my autonomy? For some reason, while heading for the produce aisle that dastardly wheel always has other plans. I'm convinced there's a conspiracy hard at work here.

It might sound strange but I absolutely love to food shop, especially when I know exactly what I plan to cook. Selecting the ingredients is pure poetry. The sweet, heady scent of fresh basil, the firmness of the tomatoes, the vibrant colors of a bell pepper trio all let me know that I'm alive and my senses are intact. And then there's the preparation of such a meal. Beating the eggs and rolling the balls of meat into breadcrumbs, the sizzle of the garlic in the olive oil...it's something of a dance to me. Tango to be exact. Somewhat forced but fluid- violent and sensual all at once.

Anyhow, I say that to say this: There is nothing like a good bowl of pasta topped with some well made meatballs. Delicious. And Oh, it doesn't taste quite the same unless you have some beautiful people (or just one really hot person who appreciates Italian cuisine) to share it with. Pop a nice bottle of Red and you're in business.

Mangia! Mangia!



Photo courtesy Corbis