LAST WINTER, MY WIFE INVITED AN OLD FRIEND OVER FOR SUNDAY DINNER.
Craving something simple and homey, I suggested spaghetti
and meatballs. Simone agreed, adding garlic bread and a big salad to our menu.•That was easy, I thought. Within a few hours, we
sat down to dinner with our nine-
year-old son and Simone’s friend. After crunching into the fragrant butter-saturated garlic bread, cutting into a plump meatbal
l laden with sauce, and taking a few
bites of iceberg coated in a bright acidic dressing, something else crossed my mind: Why don’t we do this every Sunday?•I can’t
remember a better home-cooked meal before
or since that has hit every pleasure point—rich, crisp, indulgent, nostalgic.•So often when we entertain, we’re intent on makin
g a statement. We want to impress our guests.
And we forget the most important element: Is it delicious?•If there were some way to send you a money-back guarantee on this me
al, I would. It’s that good and that foolproof.
Heck, email me on a Sunday night when it’s on the menu and I might even come over. Though, to be honest, I’ll probably already
be making it myself.
ADAM RAPOPORT