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, wesat 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 meatball laden with sauce, and taking a fewbites of iceberg coated in a bright acidic dressing, something else crossed my mind: Why don’t we do this every Sunday?•I can’tremember a better home-cooked meal beforeor since that has hit every pleasure point—rich, crisp, indulgent, nostalgic.•So often when we entertain, we’re intent on making 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 meal, 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 alreadybe making it myself.ADAM RAPOPORT