The year was 1958, I was soon to be married to my true love and in the process I visited his family in Seattle. They had never had a close personal association with anything Italian, and here I was.
On a Saturday afternoon I must have been carried way with stories about my mothers` fabulous sauces, the next thing I knew I was elected to cook dinner. Help! Up until this point (I was not yet 20 years old) I was the prime chopper, stirrer, and all things mundane in the kitchen. A quick collect long distance call was placed to Mom for assistance. I became the chef, they did the chopping and stirring,(under my watchful eye), remember I was expert at those things.
Things progressed in my view very nicely, but the family seemed concerned about something. It seems that they couldn`t see how such a small pan of sauce would feed the 6 of us. Thinking back it seems to me that maybe there was 2 or 3 cups of sauce. Our family had six people in it, and this is the amount of fresh sauce Mom always made, and it was enough. They stewed and were concerned, but in the end we had plenty. I had earned my stripes, passed the test and all of that, and was I happy.
They all know the story now and think it is very funny, but still say they can't see how that small amount of sauce fed everyone.
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