Comfort food

For years everytime I heard the term 'comfort food' what popped into my head was something my mom used to make quite often. Eating it always reminded me of being a kid and feeling warm and safe. It's a simple dish, really. Not too many ingredients and it doesn't require a lot of either prep work or time to make it. Even considering those factors I had never quite been able to make it the way both my mom and grandma had. I had tried in the past and just didn't seem to be able to pull it off. Plus, it was always something that my mom could just whip up quickly and her version was always much better than what I had attempted. Isn't that sometimes how it is? There's always that one (or sometimes than one) dish that it seems that only one person could make for you. For me it was my mom's hot spaghetti. When I say it's a simple dish I am not kidding - cayenne pepper, garlic salt, butter, and Parmesan cheese. Easy, right? Not really. There is a matter of reserving some of the water to make a sauce that coats the pasta without making it too watery. That was the hard part for me for some reason - mine either came out as dry as a desert or way too soupy.

The other day I woke up craving some hot spaghetti. I had all of the ingredients on hand so I thought that I'd give it a try. I had not tried to make it in a few years and the last time that I did have it my mom had made it for me one day when she came over for lunch. Right before I drained the water I used a soup ladle and scooped out about 2 cups of water to attempt to get the sauce right. I added a little at a time and it started to look like how my mom made it. One taste told me that I had done it right. That's where the tears started flowing. I was happy that I had made it the way she told me too but having it without her made me sad at the same time. By the time that I had dished it and sat down to eat it the tears had stopped and it just felt like I was enjoying something that I had always enjoyed and reminded me of home.


Lately my mom has been on my mind quite a bit. This is probably why I woke up wanting something she used to make for me. The second anniversary of her passing is coming up soon and it doesn't seem like it's been that long at all. Losing her so close to the holidays makes this time of the year hard for me. The couple of people that I know who've lost family members so close to the holidays tell me that the first few years are the hardest but that it does get easier to rejoice in this time a year further on down the road. I know they're right but honestly sometimes, especially days like today, it just doesn't feel that way. At least now I know that I have the ability to whip up a bowful of something I thought only she could make for me and enjoy it while thinking of her. Hers was better, no doubt about it, but mine's not that bad either.