Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: May 28, 2025
Ordinarily we think of one spaghetti or possibly two, including macaroni. If our knowledge goes a little farther we think also of tagliarini, which is the Italian equivalent of noodles, as it is made with eggs. In New York we were much impressed with the stress they laid on the serving of spaghetti, and one restaurant went so far as to advertise dinners given "under the spaghetti vine."
Among certain branches of the Teutonic races the favorite indoor sport is suicide by gas, and the favorite outdoor sport is going to a schutzenfest and singing Ach du lieber Augustin! coming home. To Italy the rest of us are indebted for unparalleled skill in eating spaghetti with one tool they use the putting iron all the way round.
France a pastry shop. Italy spaghetti and raviolas. The Islands have for sale all that's hula-hula. Here is a Hungarian restaurant. And the "O. K. Shoe Shop While U Wait" is pure American. There is "Sam's Tailor Shop." I feel as though I should know this fellow Sam. Apparently he knows me from his chummy sign. Sam, Sam I ought to remember Sam. Do you wish to paint and varnish? Well, here you are.
Sometimes a few are pounded up with sarvis berries, and dried. Bitter-root is gathered, dried, and boiled with a little sugar. It is a slender root, an inch or two long and as thick as a goose quill, white in color, and looking like short lengths of spaghetti. It is very starchy. In the spring, a certain root called mats was eaten in great quantities.
When the vegetables are tender, add to the simmering sweetbreads. Thicken the sauce with a teaspoon of flour. Have the sauce boiled down quite thick. Boil the spaghetti in salted water until tender. Serve with the sweetbreads. Take the breast of chicken that has been fricasseed, cut up into small pieces, and add mushrooms. Make brown sauce. Serve in paté shells.
Jenny was asked to take down the order, and the process of selecting the dishes for the dinner was gone through; each ordering according to his own taste. Jenny tried to write down everything they wanted, but gave it up after she had filled three pages of suggestions and scratched them out again. Finally Von Barwig ordered a nice little dinner, including spaghetti and garlic.
And he, Kent, had only that morning called his brother Paul "a conceited ass" because Paul had on a cravat to match his socks; and he had been equally unreasonable with a misguided waiter who brought him macaroni when he ordered spaghetti.
He liked three kinds of films: pretty bathing girls with bare legs; policemen or cowboys and an industrious shooting of revolvers; and funny fat men who ate spaghetti. He chuckled with immense, moist-eyed sentimentality at interludes portraying puppies, kittens, and chubby babies; and he wept at deathbeds and old mothers being patient in mortgaged cottages. Mrs.
He had the long sensitive, beautiful hands of an artist, but his face was thin and marked with the pallor peculiar to the indoor worker. And he knew more about economics and sociology, I firmly believe, than half the college professors. A truly remarkable man. It was an Italian restaurant, and I remember how, in my hunger, I assailed the generous dishes of boiled meat and spaghetti.
Three sparrows hailed him from the window ledge, shrilly demanding crumbs. Crumbs made him think of Mrs. Kukor's stealthy gift. Sure enough, the yellow bowl held soup. In the soup was spaghetti the wide, ribbony, slippery kind he especially liked, coiled about in a broth which smelled deliciously of garlic.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking