We decide to eat at a restaurant near her apartment since she is gimping along on a booted fractured foot. The Italian restaurant we are going to is a chain restaurant, mainly a pizza place but serving all kinds of fabulous dishes. We decide to split an order of spaghetti and meatballs.
Beer arrives, as do rolls and dipping oil, so we are chattering away and munching away when the plates of food arrive. Each of us gets a huge plate of pasta and two giant meatballs. Thank goodness we didn't order separate meals because I am not going to be able to eat completely the half portion now sitting in front of me. I pick up my fork to dig in when I notice something strange.
"They gave me a giant spoon," I announce.
"Yup," my daughter answers.
"Why would I need a spoon? It's spaghetti."
My daughter is Sicilian by birth; I am Sicilian by osmosis. She looks at me funny and announces, as if I should know this, "You twirl your spaghetti on the spoon."
Say, what? I start thinking back to all the times I ate dinner with my late husband's family. I recall the giant anniversary party for his grandparents - a dining hall at an Italian restaurant that was filled to the brim with Italians and Sicilians (yes, there is a difference). Nope, I cannot recall ever seeing anyone twirl their spaghetti with anything but a fork and the plate.
I start thinking about my own upbringing. My parents, both tracing their lineages to the United Kingdom and Ireland, were sticklers for table manners, some to which I still adhere: where to place the silverware, no elbows on the table (break this one all the time), and don't drag your bread through your gravy (right - like that one should even be a rule). Spaghetti? We were told that if we didn't have the coordination and good sense to twirl it properly onto the fork using the plate surface, we should cut it up like a baby and eat it in small forks-full like a baby. In other words, we learned to twirl.
I argue with my daughter at the table. "No one uses a spoon to twirl their spaghetti."
"Mom, EVERYONE uses a spoon to twirl their spaghetti. That's how it's done."
Suddenly, I feel like a failure as a parent. How could I have gone so wrong? Have I truly raised children who need a spoon to eat spaghetti? I thought I broke them of that when they were two years old. All my years of believing I had raised my children to be meaningful participants in society swirl down the proverbial drain: My children believe spoons are for pasta. I almost start crying.
Later, my daughter posts on social media that I apparently don't get out enough because I had never seen a spoon served with spaghetti. This opens up a huge debate. There are Purists (no spoon fanatics), there are Spooners (spoons are for pasta twirling), and there are IDGAFF (people who either cut up their pasta or who do not eat pasta or who just don't give a flying ----).
The debate rages for a while, with several people deriding me because I cannot fathom why anyone in good conscience and with an ounce of sense knocked into them would ever bring spaghetti to the table with a giant goddamned spoon stuck into the middle of it. It's sacrilege and it's gauche.
Finally, I've had enough. I turn to the experts: Google. I find several articles on this very topic. Who knew? I figured it was a horrid restaurant faux pas. Finally, I find an article that interviews Italian restaurant owners in New York City.Guess what, folks?
They ALL agree. The spoon is a huge no-no. HUGE. NO-NO. HUUUUUUUGE NOOOO-NOOOO!
I may not be Italian or even Sicilian, but I do know this: If you cannot twirl your pasta onto your fork without assistance, order the damn elbow macaroni and pretend you know what you're doing. I'll even spring for your spoon.
