We'll Have a Dance of Liberty

Rigatoni with Italian Meatballs

I used the recipe from Sip and Feast for these Italian Meatballs and cooked up a bright marina sauce to go along.  I have never made a giant pot of Sunday gravy, like all the old school New York Italians, but aspire to someday should I ever have more than two people in my apartment again.  While selling kitchens I often come across a customer that expresses the need for enough space to store her Sunday gravy pot.  This warms me to the buyer and I enjoy helping real cooks set up their new digs. 

These real Italian Meatballs were next level using real Parmigiano Reggiano, parsley, garlic, eggs and soaked bread crumbs.  I couldn't help but add a little grated carrot to the sauce and balls.    

When I was a kid growing up in the Midwest, I used to say I was Italian because I was ashamed of admitting I was Mexican to some of my prejudice pals.  Also because I wanted to be Italian from what I witnessed in movies and food. It felt like a better fit for me.  If spelled differently my name could be Italian, so it worked out, for a very short time.  Kids have silly notions and need to learn for themselves just how screwed up their ideas can be.  At that time, I saw no value in being Mexican, as it seemed to be be the kind of thing that could get you beat up or at the least harassed.  And it was and it did, but every kid seemed to have their own cross to bear, whether they be poor, abused or ignorant in my neighborhood.  The stupidity was equally distributed in other words.

climbing trees in Brooklyn

Castro's Breakfast in the garden

Food brings people together, whether it be a giant plate of meatballs and rigatoni or earlier that day, a plate of breakfast chilaquiles or Mexican scramble from Castro's Restaurant on Myrtle, it is much easier to celebrate and taste the benefit of our differences in our delicious food creations.  

Later my husband told me the kids used to call their Italian friend, Pepperoni, so you can't win.