I blame it on my mother.
Everyday (well, maybe not everyday, but that is the way that I want to remember it, so that is how it shall be remembered), when I arrived home at 12PM from kindergarten, I would come inside to find a piping hot bowl of buttered noodles on the table waiting for me.
That means that my mom loved me.
Loved.
I kid, I kid.
She made me buttered elbow noodles, buttered egg noodles, buttered spaghetti, and buttered shells. Never buttered rotini. I think rotini was too “new fangled” for her upstate NY country lifestyle. But always buttered elbows, spaghetti or shells. They were safe.
Guess what? To date, I really can’t find another food that rivals buttered noodles in the realm of deliciousness. Buttered noodles are basically the queen of my Food Favorites Kingdom.
If I had a ring, I’d probably ask buttered noodles to marry me.
Why do I feel it necessary to share this? Because I’m eating buttered noodles for dinner, and I think you should too.
