Pasta
My mother was an excellent cook, not fancy but home cooking,
Our kitchen was always full of delicious and mouth watering smells;
We kids had our favourites, of course, and it was spaghetti and meatballs,
The succulent aromas drifted and floated throughout the house.
Even to this day when I eat this dish I feel the love of my family,
It was not just the handmade pasta or the thick sweet sauce;
Or the delectable meatballs with parmesan cheese all over the top,
And how we mopped up the bowl with a piece of Italian bread.
It was the whole scene, now memory, the vision of togetherness,
Such a simple dish of pasta and sauce is still a bowl of comfort;
Always a family night favourite, so robust and sweet, and flavourful,
And around the table we talked of life and things that mattered.
I found my mother's recipe diary in her belongings after her death,
It is full of meals of my childhood and a lot involved pasta;
Alphabet soup, macaroni and cheese, ravioli, lasagna and fettuccini,
Recipes for long and short shapes, tubes, twisted and flat pasta.
Now that diary is my treasure, it takes me back to the kitchen,
Where mother and father taught me about morals and ethics;
While I helped with the pasta and holding hands at suppertime,
We thanked the Lord for the food before us and for our family.
But today, I still love pasta and I follow mother's recipe almost,
Except for ethical reasons I make mine vegetarian, still good;
The pasta with a sauce of tomatoes, basil, oregano and garlic,
So yummy and scrumptious, it gives me that feel-good feeling.
_______________________
September 9, 2015
Didactic Verse
For the contest, Didactic Food, sponsor, Tammy Reams
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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