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Updated: May 28, 2025
Boil the spaghetti in the 2 quarts of boiling water to which has been added 2 teaspoonfuls of salt, and after it is tender drain off the water. Then proceed to make the sauce. Boil the tomatoes and the chopped onion in the 1/2 cupful of water for 10 minutes. Strain this mixture and to it add the butter and the flour, which should first be mixed with a little cold water.
The same thing can be done with macaroni or spaghetti that is already cooked, with cold fish or anything that is insipid to the taste. Use either sheep or pigs' kidneys. Cut them longways, so as to be able to take out the threads from the inside of them. Put some butter on to fry over a brisk fire and when it is browned, but not burnt, put in the kidneys for three or four minutes.
As they sprawled about the fire that Saturday night, the last night but one of their outlandish vacation, and ate spaghetti from tin platters, the trend of the talk showed somewhat the effects of the week's outing upon the poor little derelict of Barrel Alley. "Seems good sitting here and not eating hunter's stew, doesn't it?" said Townsend in his funny way.
Grease a baking dish and put in the meat and spaghetti, sprinkle on top with bread crumbs and bake in a moderate oven. Add to the meat. Thicken with one-fourth cup of flour moistened in cold water. Put in a baking dish.
When the poet called again to see about it, with hopes of a beefsteak dinner in his heart, it was handed back to him with the comment: "Too artificial." Several of us met over spaghetti and Dutchess County chianti, and swallowed indignation with slippery forkfuls. And there we dug a pit for the editor.
"'Then, says I, 'why was that story about finding another one in the pawn "'Oh, says Andy, 'out of respect for that conscience of yours. Come on." Across our two dishes of spaghetti, in a corner of Provenzano's restaurant, Jeff Peters was explaining to me the three kinds of graft.
It was as good as the best restaurant in Nimrim, Mo. Kedzie ordered unfamiliar things for the sake of educating her illiterate mid-Western stomach. She ordered clam chowder and Hamburger steak, spaghetti Italienne, lobster salad, and Neapolitan ice-cream. She ate too much much too much. The total bill was ninety-five cents, and she was terrified.
I looked in often on the Stroeves, and sometimes shared their modest fare. Dirk Stroeve flattered himself on his skill in cooking Italian dishes, and I confess that his <i spaghetti> were very much better than his pictures. It was a dinner for a King when he brought in a huge dish of it, succulent with tomatoes, and we ate it together with the good household bread and a bottle of red wine.
We had known the place well in our student days, and had made a point of visiting it once a month since, in order to keep in practice in the fine art of gracefully handling long shreds of spaghetti. Therefore we did not think it strange when the proprietor himself stopped a moment at our table to greet us.
"Sure, plenty!" said Mrs. Jerry. "Then I'll stay," said Hal. "You like spaghetti, Kid?" "Jesus!" cried Little Jerry. Hal looked about him at this Dago home. It was a tome in keeping with its pretty occupant.
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