Reason Enough to Slow Down

Growing up, I can remember my mother placing a giant cast iron skillet on the stove top. She would then fry up some ground beef or ground pork or a combination of both. Drain well, add diced vegetables, tomato sauce and a can of tomato paste. Dad would come in behind her to add way too much salt.

For the rest of the day the sauce would simmer, filling the entire house with the unmistakable scents of Mom’s Spaghetti. Just before dinner, mom would warm some bread while Dad made a salad. I can remember standing in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them moving together preparing the family meal. Spaghetti night usually meant more than just the immediate family. There would be cousins, uncles, aunts and neighbors galore. Life was different then.

We all look to our parents when it comes to our idea of marriage. If we were blessed with a strong example of love and commitment, that is what we search for. If on the other hand it was not filled with love, we look for those pitfalls and warning signs in the hopes that we might be spared their mistakes. I’ve never made it a secret that my mother was mentally ill. My dad was an Okie, the son of a Jack Of All Trades who moved about the southern states without ever truly putting down roots. He grew up poor, and not well educated. And yet he managed to marry a women who was socially so far out of his league. She gave up everything for him. When Mom became sick, Dad’s family tried to convince him to take the children and walk away. He didn’t do that. Instead he got her help, and stood by her through it all. If you know anything about mental illness, then you know that people aren’t ever “cured” but rather experience times of lucidity that gives us hope. My father loved her through it all.

When you grow up as I did, there are two things that happen. The first is that for a very long time you search yourself for signs, cracks, hints of a break down. The second is that you search and hope and pray that you find someone capable of loving you no matter what.

Memories are stored in our senses. Sounds, scents, or a touch can conjure up a moment that was frozen in time and filed away somewhere in the recesses of our minds. Sometimes when spaghetti is simmering on the stovetop, I am a girl again, in my mother’s kitchen, hoping and praying for the life I have today.

Slow-Simmer Spaghetti Supper
1/2 White Onion
3 Garlic Cloves
1/2 cup Baby Carrots
1/2 Red Bell Pepper
1 tablespoon Olive Oil
1 lb Italian Sausage, hot or milk
1 (28 oz) can Crushed Tomatoes
1 (16 oz) can Diced Tomatoes
1/3 cup Red Wine
1 teaspoon dried Basil
1 tablespoon dried Oregano
Salt to taste
Black pepper to taste
Pinch Red Pepper Flakes, optional
12 oz Spaghetti Noodles

Cut onion in half from root to tip. Reserve half for another purpose. Thinly slice remaining half. Peel and mince garlic. Cut bell pepper in half, reserve half for another purpose. Core and finely dice remaining half. Mince carrots. Set aside.

In a large pot warm oil. Once warmed, add vegetables. Saute until onions are translucent and the carrots are tender. Add ground sausage, brown the meat. Break meat apart as it cooks, bringing the vegetables into the mix for more flavor.

Stir in the crushed tomatoes, diced tomatoes and red wine. Bring just to a boil. Lower heat to a simmer. Season with Basil, Oregano, salt and pepper. Cover and let simmer for at least 1 hour, longer for a thicker, more intense sauce.

During the last 30 minutes of cooking time, bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Maintain boil until ready to cook pasta. Cook spaghetti noodles about 9 minutes or so until al dente.

Drain pasta, place in a large serving bowl. Pour sauce over the pasta, pulling the noodles through the sauce to coat well. Garnish with a little Parmesan Cheese if desired.

For a lovely supper, serve spaghetti with warm bread, a simple salad and perhaps a nice bottle of wine.

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Blessed may You be, O LORD,
God of Israel our father,
from eternity to eternity.”
Lord, You are exalted over all.