What can I say? My husband’s favorite dinner is spaghetti and meatballs. He’s made it twice. Dry pasta, bottled sauce, pre-made meatballs from my butcher, and authentic parmigiano reggiano.
And there were so many pots, pans, dishes to clean up and tomato sauce all over the wall. Yes, there’s a reason he’s not allowed in my kitchen. I plan, shop, prep, cook and clean up.
The other day I’d made a beef stew and wanted something other than rice to use as a base. I decided on spaetzle, which I’d made once before. I found a recipe and my husband has been buying me gadgets for years so he decided to use the food mill we got at a great hardware store in Texas. He was so impressed as he milled the batter into boiling water and seeing it done in less than a minute. I made the batter, after they were cooked I just placed them in a pan with a little butter, salt and pepper and sauteed them for a couple of minutes.
Sunday we had more beef stew. I’ve a hand-crank pasta machine I’ve never used, must have bought it well before I met my husband. Fresh from spaetzle, he wanted to use the machine. I’d made pasta in cooking school and a very rich version on my culinary apprenticeship. We took the middle ground on richness.
I did it by hand, well method. Kneaded ten minutes and let it rest. Made 1/2 the recipe and cut the result in half. Gave him my secret recipe for rolling, from across the counter. I cut the sheets and made the fettucini into tiny nests, about 2 oz. each. We enjoyed our Sunday lunch and have a couple of nests leftover.
Spaghetti and meatballs are fine from time to time, but not three dinners per week. Pasta is a good thing, especially with Italian OO flour. I’m thinking potato gnocchi, and perhaps ravioli with ricotta and a sage brown butter sauce. Dee’s cooking school is up and running!
My husband doesn’t know how to make a grilled cheese sandwich. I introduced him to Harold McGee’s scientific treatise and now, besides math and physics, he sees that I actually know a bit of science through my cooking. Welcome to the club, m’dear. No, you’re not allowed to mess up the walls anymore! Cheers! Dee