Spaghetti and Meatballs

Rosa awaiting the arrival of her new friends

“What should we feed them?”

“Matzo ball soup!”

“Pastrami on rye with mustard!”

“Spaghetti and meatballs!”

The suggestions stopped immediately, “spaghetti and meatballs?” Everyone except Rosa asked in unison as they looked at her as if she had two heads.

“Why would you make that suggestion?” asked Sybil, “it’s not the slightest bit Jewish.”

“It’s not even Italian,” added Julia who was looking forward to cooking her first feast, even though she had asked for suggestions because she was unable to come up with any ideas. “Because I like spaghetti and meatballs,” replied Rosa sounding sad.

“I think I would like to cook a lamb roast with all its trimmings, mashed potatoes, peas and bread sauce.”

Everyone looked at Julia. “Bread sauce?” they asked in unison. “What’s bread sauce?”

“I don’t know,” she replied shrugging her shoulders, “I read it on the internet. I think it was a recipe from Mary Berry.”

“I love berries!” replied Rosa not really in tune with the goings on.

“No, Rosa, not berries, Berry Mary Berry, she’s a chef.”

“Oh,” replied Rosa sounding very disheartened.

“How about brisket?” asked George, “I’m really in the mood for some red meat.”

“Meatballs are red meat,” offered Rosa.

“And so is roast lamb,” added Julia, and soon each person in the kitchen added their own suggestion. That is everyone, except Max.

Max stood on the window ledge not quite sure whether it was safe to land on the floor from where he listened to the back and forth. “How about lamb chops?” he asked believing it was safe to enter the fray.

“Lamb chops?” the Blau household shouted together, never having tasted them.

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” offered Rosa again not wanting to fade into the woodwork which she would, if her siblings had their way.

“Yes, I think that’s a great idea,” seconded George who never knew of a thing his youngest daughter said which he didn’t agree with. But the rest of the household weren’t in agreement. Max still couldn’t understand why lamb chops were out of the question. However, after listening to the incessant back and forth he chose to finally sit this one out. “Thank God,” he muttered to himself, “thank God Elizabeth isn’t here.” A comment luckily not heard by anyone else.

“I’ve got it!” shouted Rosa, “I’ve got it,” she continued raising her voice, “how about roast chicken?” That did it. Immediate silence and then a gasp went up.

“Rosa,” said her mother with a tinge of sadness. “Rosa how can you. Chickens are birds. We can’t do that. We can’t eat other birds.” Sybil sounded distraught, “that’s like, like, like,” Sybil couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. The rest of the Blau family stood around in stunned silence.

“Like murder,” George finished the sentence for his wife.

“Like murder,” added Sybil, “exactly! Thank you, George.”

George felt he was conned into adding the word murder to help his wife out, even though he really didn’t feel that way. But Rosa wasn’t done. She was now completely confused.

“Mummy, we eat chopped chicken liver, don’t we?” Again, stunned silence.

“Yes,” Sybil began feeling she was the only one to have an opinion on the matter. “But that’s different.”

“How? Roast chicken and chopped chicken livers come from a chicken, don’t they?” Rosa was too young to understand that sometimes logic is useless when emotions are involved. Not admitting that her youngest daughter was right in her assumption, Sybil pressed on.

“Rosa dear,” she began quietly hoping that what she about to say was philosophical. “Rosa dear, does chopped chicken liver look like a chicken?” No of course not, but that didn’t help Rosa. “Have you ever seen roast chicken?” asked Sybil. No of course Rosa had never seen a roast chicken. “Well then,” concluded her mother feeling she had won that round, but only in her mind. “Well when you see a roast chicken one day God forbid you do, you will know what I mean. After all it will look like a bird.” Finally, after taking a deep breath Sybil placed her wings on her hips and looked around. The stunned silence continued.

“I still don’t get it Mummy. A chicken is a chicken whether it’s in chopped liver or a roast.”

Sybil was lost for words. She was about to make another offering when there was a loud knock on the door. The family looked at each other as if to silently ask if anyone was expecting a visitor, but Rosa helped them out, “I’ll go and see who it is.” The rest remained in the kitchen and after a few seconds heard some muffled talking coming from the other room.

Rosa burst in with a sparrow in saffron feathers behind her. “Guys, this is Pawo, our buddy neighbour.”

The middle aged sparrow let out a laugh when he entered the room as he put his wings together to wish everyone a good evening. They returned the salutation, still stunned by the colour of his feathers. “This young girl is a trip,” he said. Something everyone agreed with. “My name is Pawo, I’m a Buddhist. I just moved in and was asked to introduce myself to everyone in this community, so here I am.”

That brought on words of welcome from everyone, with George offering the Buddhist sparrow an alcoholic beverage. “We Buddhists don’t drink alcohol,” he replied thanking George. “I’m sorry to disturb all of you I’ll get going now. I just thought I would say hi. I’ll come back another time when my family joins me.”

“Oh that’s ok,” replied George, “you’re not disturbing us. We are just discussing what sort of food to make for a party we are having next Saturday, and of course,” he added quickly, “you and your family are invited. When will they be here?”

“Next Friday,” replied Pawo, “they are flying down from Maryland.”

“Oh nice! Where from in Maryland?”

“Ocean City,” he replied, “but we had to move because it’s become so commercialised, and there’s no school choice. I have three little ones and I would have to send them to the state schools which we don’t want to do.” That got nods of complete agreement from everyone including Max who went to a Catholic school. “Well thank you for the invite, but I’m not sure we want to break into your traditions.”

“Oh you won’t,” replied George, “we would love to have you, that’s if we decided on what to cook.”

“We are vegetarians,” Pawo apologised, “so we don’t eat meat.”

“No worms for you then,” Sybil believed she sounded intelligent.

“No, no, we only eat grass and stuff like that, but we cook it Indian style with lots of spices.” Julia’s face lit up. “Dad,” she said rather loudly, “you just had your colonoscopy and what did Dr Laskin want you to eat more of?”

George felt a little embarrassed but did his best not to show it. “Yes Julia he did. More Indian and rural African food, because they have high fibre content.”

“Well,” laughed Timmy, “well dad the Falashas will probably bring rural African and Pawo can bring Indian.”

There was silence in the Blau household as each in their own way tried to process what had just transpired. For a change, Rosa was stumped and kept quiet.