Sometimes I think, how nice it would be to have my own family to cook for. Then I quickly come to my senses when I remember that most children refuse to eat most things -- a most unattractive quality. Not to mention, children are the dead opposite of economical, unless, of course, you live on a farm. As the saying goes, if you're old enough to read, you're old enough to drive a tractor.
But back to picky eater children: I know how awful they are, because I was one. If my parents had had any sense, they would've sent me back. Instead, they put up with my nonsense for years, which meant they ate fried pork chops and instant mashed potatoes about four nights a week. Sometimes I would let my mom mix it up, literally, with some Shake 'n' Bake. But I didn't even help.
I do not blame my parents for my childhood pickiness. They tried to get me to eat a variety of foods, and my three brothers have always been agreeable eaters. The problem was me, violently obstinate in my refusal to eat, say, all vegetables. I recall one particular episode in which trying a mere morsel of baked sweet potato sent me into a fit of gags and tears. My parents knew I would simply perish if not for Hungry Jack.
Twenty years later, one night I found myself on the other side, trying to figure out what to cook for the picky kids -- specifically, my stepcousins once removed. My cousin, their stepmother, told me ahead of time what they eat, which is...pretty much nothing, or sometimes chicken. Meanwhile, my cousin is a vegetarian who eats fish, and she was going to be there, too. In my head I made a Venn diagram of things that every dinner guest would enjoy. The overlapping part of the circles was empty.
I am not so presumptuous as to think I can influence anyone's eating habits, so I was not about to force anything unusual on my persnickety-palated guests. Besides, I figure, most picky eaters eventually outgrow those palates, as I have done. But I was also not about to let anyone at my table go hungry, so I determined to make something, anything, that would sate the kids for one meal and that everyone else would be willing to eat. The only solution I could come up with was pasta. We fancy grown-ups could dress ours with shrimp and scallops, and the young'uns could enjoy some spaghetti and meatballs. It seemed easy enough.
Well. It turns out that not all children like spaghetti and meatballs. These ones like their pasta with butter and cheese only, and lots of it. Luckily, that option was available, too. Their dad, however, could not get enough of my spaghetti (well, fettucine) and meatballs, for which I was very grateful. I certainly did not make three different pasta dishes for my health.
Recipe(s): Pasta for Persnickety Palates (Pasta Three to Five Ways)
Makes about 8 servings. Basically, you make one big batch of fettucine, or whatever long pasta you prefer, and separate it into three different bowls (or more if your guests are extra particular) before serving. The tomato sauce and meatballs can be made a few days in advance.
A large pot filled at least halfway with cold water
One and a half boxes of fettucine (or spaghetti or capellini)
Butter or olive oil
Boil the water. Once boiling, add a couple teaspoons of salt, return to the boil, then add the pasta, stirring occasionally to make sure it doesn't stick together. Drain, reserving a tablespoon or so of the pasta water, and return to the pot. If not serving immediately, toss with a bit of butter or olive oil to keep it moist.
For tomato sauce and meatballs (this should be made well in advance of the pasta, as it takes about two and a half hours in total):
1.5 lbs ground beef
2 minced garlic cloves
2 T minced shallot or onion
1 t ground fennel seeds (optional, but highly recommended)
1 piece of bread, turned into bread crumbs in the food processor
1 t salt
1/2 t pepper
1 beaten egg
2 T milk
2 T olive oil, plus more if necessary
1 onion, cut in half
5 cloves garlic, crushed
1 (28 oz.) can crushed tomatoes
1 (28 oz.) can whole peeled tomatoes
1 t dried basil
1 t dried oregano
1 t hot paprika
2 bay leaves
salt and pepper to taste
To assemble the meatballs, mix the ground beef with the next 8 ingredients in a large bowl with your hands. Roll meatballs of about an inch in diameter (should make 30-40 meatballs). Heat the oil in a large skillet or Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the meatballs, in batches if necessary, and cook till browned all around, stirring occasionally to make sure they cook evenly.
If you have guests who do not eat tomato sauce but do eat meatballs (these people do exist), or vice versa, and others who eat both, you have three options: remove enough meatballs for the anti-tomato guest to have his fill, and finish cooking them in a different pan over medium heat; or remove the meatballs that will eventually be cooked with the sauce and finish cooking the meatballs for anti-tomato guest in the original pot, then remove them and re-add the meatballs that will go into sauce; or start the tomato sauce and remaining ingredients in an entirely different pot to make a vegetarian ragu. Good grief.
Now that that issue has been taken care of, however you decided to approach it or not, add the two onion halves to the pot, plus a tablespoon or so of olive oil if the pot has dried up, and cook over medium-high heat. Once the onions are softened (after about five minutes), add the tomatoes, basil, oregano, paprika, and bay leaves. Break up the whole tomatoes a bit. Bring sauce to a simmer, then reduce heat to low and cook for two hours. Add salt and pepper to taste.
For seafood sauce:
3 T butter
1 lb shrimp, peeled and deveined
1 lb scallops
2 T cream (optional)
2 T chopped fresh parsley
Heat the butter in a frying pan over medium heat. Once melted, add the shrimp and cook for a couple minutes on each side, till both sides are pink. Remove from pan and set aside. Add scallops to pan, and cook for about a minute on each side, or till both sides are slightly browned. Remove from heat, and return shrimp to pot. Add cream, if using, and parsley.
For plain boring sauce:
4 T (half a stick) butter
1 C grated Parmesan
a sprinkling of salt
As if you need explanation: just add this to some cooked pasta.
To tie everything together for your Party of Persnickety Palates:
Make the tomato sauce and meatballs well in advance of the dinner gathering. About a half hour before guests arrive, start peeling and deveining the shrimp, grate a whole lot of Parmesan, and chop up some parsley for the shrimp and scallop sauce. About 20 minutes before guests arrive, set the water to boil, and cook the pasta. While it's boiling, reheat the tomato sauce and meatballs, and cook the shrimp and scallops. When pasta is done cooking, divide it onto at least three platters or large bowls, depending on the number of sauce varieties you make, and sprinkle all with extra Parmesan. Garlic bread and a salad are the only sides you need.