CNF-Food

Spaghetti was dinner for tonight, relatively easy to make and can be eaten for about three days or so but you have to make a huge pot. Feeding two adults and six boys is quite a challenge. My mom said she would make it against my wishes since I wanted to make it. Last year I had to cook all the family meals for seven months while mom was truck-driving. I became especially good at making spaghetti, better even than my mom could make or so I thought. My mother’s pride and mine would never allow us to agree on which one was better.

Anyway my mom started to gather the ingredients; one and a half package of short noodles, six cans of Tomato & Basil sauce, and a huge block of meat that may or may not be a pound heavy. Frying the meat is easy; all you need to do its chop it up, mix it around and smack any thieving hand that gets too close. Cooking noodles is even easier; just boil it in water til its soft. Although the first time I made spaghetti it tasted like mushy, paste. Facts I still entirely blame on my elder brother, what sort of numskull can’t tell if noodles are undercooked or not? Only a fool can’t cook sauce and momma ain’t no fool and she stirs it in a separate pot. I prefer to cook the sauce with the fried meat so when I add sugar it looks like a warm, tangy, blood-red stew.

Mom finished and dumped everything in a stupidly huge pot and was stirring it all up. My brothers would sometimes crack jokes that she looked like a witch stirring a cauldron and mom would cackle and flick sauce at us. There’s no table in the house large enough to sit us all so everybody had to grab a plate,  serve themselves and wander off somewhere in the house to eat. The problem is there’s always a dispute of who gets to eat first. By the laws of the nature the strongest eat first and that’s how it mostly is at dinner time in my house. Mom eats first then it’s either me or my older brother and then I don’t really care who eats next.

After a heavy dose of parmesan cheese I wolf everything down yet still savoring the flavor. The noodles are well cooked, the meat is perfectly brown and the sauce has a bitter flavor to it that comes with the pounds of herbs, spices, and giblets mom love to drown the sauce in. When my hunger is sated I complement mom on her mediocre dish and she graciously accepted while hurdling her fork at me