Jose Goolegooza
If you
caught this column last week, you might remember that it was about being in
survival mode. Every now and then our waves of busyness collide and our
peaceful little family barely has clean socks to wear and hasn’t had a fresh
vegetable in days. It takes all the spare time and energy I have just to
provide them with the basics of food, clothing, and cleanliness, not to mention
getting to 4,329 extra curricular activities on time.
Keeping
that in mind, my grandparents who are pretty elderly are finding their days
more and more numbered. For that reason I can’t help but keep them always on my
mind and in my heart, and because they are such colorful people, in my mouth.
I have no idea who Joe Goolegooza
and Steve Kitzock are, but my entire life their names have been tossed around.
Where are you going, Grampa? Steve Kitzock’s house. Who gave you that hat,
Grampa? Joe Goolegooza. The fictional names became an answer for everything,
and so it is with great pleasure that I pass on the tradition to my own kids.
Who left the giant mess on the kitchen table? Surely it was Steve and Joe.
My Grandma has plenty of
specialties of her own, being a tremendous cook. One of her famous recipes was
for Slumgooey. We ate this tomato, noodle, and beef casserole my entire life
until I married my husband and his mother set down a family dinner on the
table.
“Slumgooey!” I said.
“Johnny Marzetti!” they answered.
It seems that most of the world has
a different name for the comfort casserole of my youth.
And so it follows, if you haven’t
given up on this story yet, that this week while in survival mode, I needed to
make dinner. The cupboard was nearly bare, so I scrounged for anything I could.
I had noodles. I had beef. I had tomato sauce. I had no recipe, so instead of
calling it something official, I said, “kids! We’re having Joe Goolegooza
tonight!”
I boiled
the noodles. I cooked the beef. We were actually going to have a hot, family
meal! I went to grab the tomato sauce, and froze dead in my tracks. It wasn’t
there. In fact, it was at school for a book report project of my son.
You know what they say about when
life gives you lemons? Sometimes you don't make lemonade. Sometimes you just
open up a jar of salsa because it's the only tomato based item you have, and
you dump mild picante sauce in a vat of Italian pasta and ground beef and you
mix it up and pour it in a dish and cover it with cheese and teach your family
the value of tradition and flexibility and that even though mom is tired and
out of steam, she still loves you.
Jose Goolegooza is served.
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