Unfamiliarities

The story behind this traditional Italian dish and what it means to me is, of course involves: La Familia

Spaghetti a la Bologna was actually the first dish I ever cooked for anyone. In this case, my parents and my two siblings. I was an early student at the university, it must have been the first or second year.

So one day I just had the idea of inviting my family over to my first own apartment (so proud!) and even cooking lunch for them on a Sunday. My parents half-jokingly accepted the invitation, not expecting too much.

Of course, the plan was much easier said than done, and on the Thursday before the big day, I panicked. As the daughter of an excellent cook (came with his job) and a mother who liked to keep her kitchen organized, my actual culinary knowledge did not extend much further than cheese noodles and Hawaiian toast.

But this time I was determined to make it happen, so I went shopping for ingredients in earnest. My first stop was the butcher. I was a rather odd customer at the time, buying very little meat and being very particular about the quality (not your average all-you-can-eat college student, I guess), so I was not expecting any special treatment when I walked into the place. Which was completely empty at the time, except for me and a well-set man in an apron of about sixty I would say. He was busy sorting something.

I really did not know what I was doing. So I walked up and down the store, studying the display. Finally, I decided to buy about 500 grams of fresh corned beef. It must have been written on my face, because the butcher asked me in a curious tone what I was going to do with it. So I gathered all my self-confidence and answered something like: “Well, you know, the usual pasta sauce, bologna style.” As if it were totally obvious.

Then this man, who had not shown a single sign of courtesy before, gave me a big, warm smile and said, “Oh, but that won’t work for pasta bologna, dear. How many people are you cooking for?” “Five”, I replied. And I explained the occasion, which made his smile even brighter. Without further ado, he scooped up a large chunk of the finest ground ham and wrapped it. He placed it on the counter and meticulously explained to me how to prepare the dish I wanted to make. Down to every single vegetable, herb, and other ingredient I needed (in fact, even in the friendly butcher’s recipe, the sauce was mostly vegetables and only about fifteen percent meat), how to time the preparations, and what to watch out for. It was really nice.

My family was a bit surprised that Sunday. Because they got really good pasta with a well-seasoned sauce, Bologna-style. I told my dad where I got the recipe and he laughed. The rest of the family just ate it because it was not too bad. But I was proud. And I will never forget the kind butcher who helped me create a memorable lunch for my family.

So while it may seem like a simple meal (it cost me about a week’s worth of my food budget at the time), I still take that dish very seriously and cherish the original idea wrapped in a fond memory.

So while it may seem like a simple meal, I still take that dish very seriously and cherish the original idea wrapped in a fond memory.

Side Notes:

• Of course, my eating habits have changed a bit these days (as have the eating habits of almost my entire family).
• This also was the first dish – beside ‘Chili sin Carne’ – I recreated in a vegan version a long time ago. It’s a classic. Some people might even want to call it ‘soul food’.