What goes around comes around tomato sauce
One summer my younger siblings and I went to daycare at Ms. H’s. I enjoyed the change of scenery and playing with other kids, but there was one problem, I hated the food she served...and unlike my own parents, insisted that we eat what was on our plate. One day, while we were playing outside, Ms. H gave us all a snack—strawberry-banana yogurt and a spoon to eat it with.
As she distributed the little plastic cups of yogurt to the other kids, her smile was as bright as the summer sun, full of love and encouragement. "It's good for you!" she beamed. The other kids squealed in delight, their little hands clapping in eager anticipation.
I took my spoon and stared down at the pinkish concoction in the cup. It looked... suspicious. It smelled... off. I dipped my spoon in and brought it to my lips, expecting a burst of flavor that would change my life forever. But no. Instead, I was met with a creamy texture and an overwhelming tanginess that seemed to mock my taste buds. The strawberry and banana were there, but they were... wrong. They fought each other, clashing in a discordant symphony of fruit and dairy that was simply too much for my young sensibilities.
I hated it. I loathed it. And yet, Ms. H had made it clear: No wasting food. My heart sank. How was I supposed to survive this? What was I to do with this vile concoction that stood between me and freedom?
In that moment, my mind sparked with the kind of creative genius only a child could muster. I couldn’t let the yogurt touch my stomach, but I also couldn’t just throw it away. No, I had to make it disappear in the most clever, inconspicuous way possible. So, with all the stealth of a tiny, yogurt-hating ninja, I slyly spooned the yogurt into the dirt of Ms. H's garden, right next to the tomatoes she so lovingly tended to.
The yogurt was buried, the spoon wiped clean, and the world was safe once more.
Fast forward a few weeks, and and I had forgot the incident. One day when my mother came to pick us up, Ms. H handed her a jar of homemade tomato sauce. "I used the tomatoes from my garden," she said with pride, "and a little help from nature."
That night, my father sautéed some Italian sausage to add to the sauce, my mom cooked the noodles, and us kids set the table. As we sat down to eat, the table was full of smiles, Spaghetti was a favorite at our house. The sauce was thick, rich, and brimming with flavor, the sweet spice of the Italian sausage, the tang of the tomatoes, all complemented perfectly by a hint of basil. It was, in a word, delicious.
And then it hit me.
I had, in a roundabout way, eaten the yogurt. That gooey, unpleasant snack that I had buried in the dirt had somehow found its way back to me—there was no escape. As I grew older, I grew to love yogurt, but never strawberry banana.
Recipe:
Ms. H has retired from making homemade tomato sauce, but you can get a jar of “Homestyle” tomato sauce from most discerning grocery stores.
Pour the tomato sauce into a pot on the stove and heat at med.
Sauté a pound and a half Italian sausage and drain grease.
Mix the meat into the sauce and stir until bubbling.
Oh, I forgot! You should start boiling water for the noodles first. Go back and do that.
Boil noodles while heating up the sauce.
Put noodles on a plate, and scoop sauce on top.
Garnish with Strawberry Banana Yogurt.
Enjoy your meal… and remember: everything comes full circle.
