Best Baked Meatballs
Growing up, we often had spaghetti, but never spaghetti and meatballs. Meat sauce was the go to option. Of course a meat sauce is classically delicious and simple, but as a very food focused kid, I always yearned for meatballs. Our play kitchen’s plastic spaghetti came with three plastic meatballs. The families on Friday night sitcoms had spaghetti and meatballs. I was slightly annoyed by my childhood lack of meatballs, but not enough so to risk demanding them of my hardworking mother. I accepted our meat sauces and moved on.
As a college student in Washington, D.C., I had the chance to have tons of awesome professional experiences, and with them, work events. Drinks were always served, and of course, in the spirit of young professionalism, I would politely decline- but of course, always indulged in the food. The first real spaghetti and meatballs I ever had were served at one of these events. When I spotted the servers coming around with plates piled high with pasta and meatballs, I fought my best to hide my excitement, continuing to idly chat with coworkers and clients, while underneath the table, my feet were tapping in anticipation.
Simple 30 Minute Pasta
We’ve added another baby boy to our family. His name is George, and he’s a five-month-old, sixty-pound Bordeaux mastiff. He’s big, he’s playful, and he’s sweet. Also, he’s nearly impossible to control, so we’ve signed up for puppy training classes. The class is once a week at seven in the evening, which is a pretty annoying commitment given the time of day. It’s around the time we typically eat dinner, which is an issue in itself. If boyfriend doesn’t eat around the same time every day, he turns into a diva. Demanding, aggressive, on edge. His hunger really gets the best of him.
So one evening, about an hour before puppy class, I notice the diva emerging. He’s walking around the kitchen restlessly, snapping at the dogs, opening and closing cabinets. My first mind tells me “don’t cook anything, he’ll be fine until after class”. But I see him angrily chewing on a handful of dry cereal, and come to my senses. I roll my eyes, put on a pot of boiling water, chop some veggies, and in about thirty minutes we have a big, steaming bowl of pasta. Twenty minutes later, we’re in the car on the way to puppy class. The diva has disappeared, and my loving boyfriend is back. Further annoyance diverted.
The haute in domestic
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