I’m cooking dinner for some friends of ours tonight. Most people that know me, know that I love to complain about this particular household task, claiming that I cannot cook to save my life. However, what most people who eat my cooking eventually learn is that this claim is based on nothing more than my lack of organizational skills and a deep-rooted pschycological distaste for cleaning up after myself. I cut corners out of sheer laziness, but when I do decide to go all out on a particular night it is usually met with grand appreciation for my efforts and comments from guests suggesting my abduction for cooking purposes. I am mostly Polish and Italian in nationality, but more Polish than Italian. That being said, I feel a much stronger pull toward my Italian heritage in both culture and cuisine, and this comes through in my cooking as I love both cooking and eating Italian dishes.
Tonight’s menu includes the long-time family recipe of Gnocchi, which is a pasta-dumpling-like item smothered in spaghetti sauce. It has been passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and now I use it as well. I have been making this dish ever since moving up to British Columbia because it is one of the few recipes I brought with me, and it is Mike’s all-time favorite thing that I cook. I love it as well, but truth be told..I mostly make it because it makes him happy.. This particular dinner party is, I think, Mike’s way of showing me off in the cooking department and letting others get a taste of what he gets to experience on a somewhat regular basis..and we all win, really, because the night will include good friends, good food, and good times..so what the heck-I’ll humor him..
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