Patty's Spaghetti

It's the heart of tomato season with a hint of autumn on the air, and once again I find myself making Patty's Spaghetti. I first posted this recipe during hunting season in 2008, and I figured most of you didn't know me when.

After walking down our gravel road with gunshots going off in the woods all around me and a bowl of spaghetti under my coat to deliver to the folks, I decided to write about the experience and share my mother's old recipe.

At the time, I clearly remember wondering, if you are hit by a bullet, do you feel it? Does it hurt? What if one hit my bowl of spaghetti, sauce down my coat and in my hair. What would they eat for dinner? 

PATTY'S SPAGHETTI SAUCE

1 handful of sliced fresh mushrooms

2-3 cloves of garlic (as much as you like)

2 large onions, several stalks of celery

diced and simmered in a stick of butter

until translucent.

Add 2 quarts of canned tomatoes

tomato paste

1 bay leaf, 1 t. oregano

2 t salt and 2 t pepper

Homemade meatballs.

Or you can chunk it up

with winter squash if you don't have

a good local source for pastured beef. 

Simmer all day on the stove,

stirring frequently (don't burn it like I just did)

Your sauce will thicken as it simmers

addendum:

Best with real garlic bread made with minced garlic drenched in melted butter and toasted in the oven. Don't buy Texas Toast. Ewww look at the ingredients!

Patty's Spaghetti

I started this blog many many moons ago at this time of year, hunting season, frost in the air and homemade spaghetti sauce simmering in the pot. I carried it down the road to my parent's house (arms wrapped around the pot for warmth) with gunshots echoing in the woods, but light of foot and heart, to coin a tired phrase.

There is no house down the road anymore, at least not one for me. Hunting season has come and gone. Patty's Spaghetti recipe is tucked away in a book, along with others cut out of the newspaper with handwritten notes: Look Yvonne, sounds good, no?

Tis the losing season, I've often thought, as dark closes in, tighter and tighter, this year especially, though we string lights and put candles in windows. Hopefully we turn the corner soon to a brighter future and less toxic news. Doesn't everyone just want to return to normal?

I hadn't meant for this to turn political but the politics of the day have pitted friend against friend, brother against sister, neighbor against neighbor until it feels like there is no us anymore.

Patty would not approve of the new lapse in decorum, the lack of civility in our national discourse. Hatred is a contagion for which there is no vaccination, but we still have free and fair elections and a new year ahead.

On that uplifting note, we will soon reach winter solstice and celebrate the return of the sun. Oh, and that recipe? Trust me, it is a good one.



 

Anniversary and A Cure

It's my blog's anniverary month! We're four years old. I started this blog back in November, 2008, back when it was deemed essential for an emerging writer to have one, but I was afraid that nobody would want to read about my bulky manuscripts and fledgling attempts at publication, so I wrote my first post about beets.

Pretty funny, eh?  Let me explain. When I'm not writing, I'm gardening, and I know that everyone loves good food. (As George Bernard Shaw said,  "There is no love sincerer than the love of food.") So I thought I would begin by writing about something we can all agree on. My first post was about the tremendous beet harvest of 2008 with a recipe for Rosy Beet Risoto from my sister, Bett. And then I shared my mother's homemade spaghetti sauce recipe, memories of the season triggered by a November gale and gunshots on opening day as I carried a bowl of sauce down the road to her place.

Back when pheasants were plentiful, opening day of hunting season was a main event. We always made friedcakes, using my grandma's deep ol' fryer and an ancient recipe. It was an all-day process, at the end of which the counter would be full of warm friedcakes dripping glaze or coated in sugar and cinnamon. The hunters would report in at the back door, eat friedcakes, and discuss the hunt.

But back to blogging. I moved beyond food, and suddenly one day I had a follower and more than one comment. Who would've guessed? I didn't know there would be such a thing as followers and feedback. Did I say I knew anything about blogging? I knew nothing, but I got braver and posted an excerpt of my writing and a poem or two.  I met other writers and artists, editors and interns. I started to get more than a couple of comments on a post, I dared to offer advice, wrote about writer do's and don'ts, and posted a book review. I shared experience and fessed up to rejections. I received a few blog awards (remember when those things were all the rage?) and passed them on. I had fun. 

Of late, many have questioned bogging and wonder if the pheonomon has run it's course. But I think that as long as people hunger to share ideas, receive advice and get feedback, there will be a reason to blog and interesting people who will do it. Blogging opens lines of communication between people who would never have otherwise met. I love getting a comment from Australia or Europe or Asia, or from someone in the next county. Some months I may only get up 2-3 posts but that's OK.

I began by singing beet praises, so let me end this post with a story about beets. When my grandmother was a young woman (my father just a boy), she because very ill with what was then called Quincy. We now know it as acute tonsillitis. She became so sick, she could barely breathe. Grandfather sent for her sisters to come and help. The distance was great with nothing but a team of horses to ease their journey, but they made the trip and arrived on a blustery winter night and started chopping up beets. They made a beet poultice and wrapped it around her neck in a cheesecloth. They didn't cook the beets; they simply chopped them in a food grinder and wrapped them in cheesecloth. They changed the poultice several times during the night. In the morning she was better.

In closing, I'd like to thank all of you for reading what I write and thank you especially for all your encouraging words. Even if you only drop in ocassionally, that's all any writer could ask. I remember each and every one of you. I thank you for making blogging fun.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Shotgun Shells and Spaghetti Sauce

Walking down the gravel road towards dusk with a bowl of spaghetti sauce under my coat, gunshots went off in the woods to the north of me, and then along the creek to the south of me and in the woods behind me, and I wonder that there aren't more accidents than what are reported. I wrapped my arms around the bowl for warmth and made my way up the incline of the road. It was snowing, but not hard. Shots were still going off, but receding and the ribbon of the road stretched out in front of me on a surreal trajectory.

If you're hit by a bullet, do you feel it? Does it hurt? I imagine my bowl of spaghetti being blown to smithereens, sauce down the front of my coat and in my hair and then what would they eat for dinner? How long would it take before someone noticed my lifeless body in the ditch? And if I was only wounded, would I be able to make my way home?

PATTY'S SPAGHETTI SAUCE
A handful of sliced fresh mushrooms,
1 onion, several stalks of celery and
fresh garlic (as much as you like)
diced and simmered in 1/2 stick butter
and/or olive oil until translucent.
Add two quarts of canned tomatoes,
1 bay leaf, 1t oregano, more garlic (pressed)
2t salt and 2t. pepper.
I like to add meatballs
for substance, but if you don't
have a local source
for good meat you can chunk it
up with winter squash (delicata are nice)
Simmer all day on the stove,
stirring frequently.
Your sauce will thicken as it simmers.