YUM, PART 2

As promised in the last episode, here is one more special recipe from our family's special collection, Spaghetti and Beans, or as Grandma Kofink would say, Spergehtti and Beans.

This one is easy because it requires no leftovers. Everything is made fresh. And it only has three ingredients. Spaghetti, canned pork and beans, and bacon. Think of that: one ingredient is pure carbohydrate, one is high saturated fat, and the other is reasonably nutritious.

Start by boiling some salted water, enough to make a package of spaghetti. Now we are talking plain old unadulterated spaghetti, none of this stuff with spinach or tomato or basil flavoring in it. Just plain old pasty spaghetti, the stuff real Americans ate before all this falderal of "pasta" started sneaking in. When the water is boiling, toss in the spaghetti. If your fastidious, break it in half first, but that takes the fun out of eating it.

Next, while the water is boiling, cut up some bacon into small squares. Oh, come on now, you aren't going to ask that are you? ENOUGH! That's how much. Then fry it in a small frying pan until it is crispy, but not burnt. This is a slight departure from grandma's method of cooking. Grandma believed something wasn't done until it was a little black around the edges. That applied to bacon, cake, and sometimes vegetables also. Think of it; she was making blackened fish long before it became popular. And the only spices used were salt and pepper.

Where were we? Oh yes, frying bacon. While the bacon is frying, dump a can of pork and beans in a sauce pan. Maybe use a couple of cans if you want. Mom always used Van Camp's, but I have found I prefer Campbell's. Stay away from any of those fancy-schmancy ones that have added brown sugar or molasses or barbeque sauce. You want a good-old tomato sauce base. Heat the pork and beans carefully so you don't burn them onto the bottom of the pan. It's murder to get off.

All right, we're getting close now. When the spaghetti is done, (We always tasted it to see if it was done–really done, not au dente. Some people I know throw a piece on the wall. If it sticks, it's done. We would NEVER have done that in out house.) drain the spaghetti. Spoon about a third of the fried bacon into the beans and mix well. Now the secret technique. Put the drained spaghetti in a bowl and pour the rest of the bacon and all the grease on top. I hope you're not going to waste any of that perfectly good, artery-clogging fat. Mix the bacon, grease and spaghetti. Serve everything right away because you don't want to eat the spaghetti after the bacon grease starts to congeal. It's yucky and reminds you what's going on in your heart as you eat it.

Each person piles spaghetti on their plate, spoons the beans on top, and mixes it up. No matter how much spaghetti and how much beans you make, it will never come out even. You will always run out of spaghetti before you run out of beans. I don't know why. It's a mystery of physics. My dad always like to accompany this with soft white bread spread with margarine. It was useful for pushing the beans on your fork. We NEVER ate a salad or green vegetable with this. Hey, beans are vegetables, aren't they?

That's all for today from the German-American-Eastern-European Chef. This is me saying, dig in.

May the Lord God bless you on your way and greet you on your arrival.


Wayne