The secret to my famous Lasagna is the sauce and I learned all about making sauce from Phil. Until I met Phil, I thought that spaghetti sauce was made with cans – cans of tomatoes, cans of mushrooms and cans of Parmesan cheese. Phil taught me to use fresh ingredients and to pay attention to each one of them and then let the sauce make itself. I met Phil because of Betty. Until I met Betty, I thought family was just the folks you were related to by blood. Betty taught me a whole other meaning.
Betty was my first mother in law and she was such a jewel that I divorced the husband but kept her. She was a four foot eleven, red headed firecracker from Kentucky. She had one sign in her kitchen that said, “I used to have ten theories on raising children. Now I have ten children and no theories.” She had another sign that said, “Show me a woman with a clean kitchen and I’ll show you a neurotic woman.” Her kitchen was spotless.
As the single mother of five boys and one girl, she was constantly on the move. Shortly after I met her we all took a trip to Kentucky to visit her parents. After driving all night she stopped at a rest area as the sun came up. In a flash she had a cast iron skillet on the BBQ pit with bacon simmering and a pot of coffee perking up a storm. At the same time she was getting the kids up and dressed and sending them off to the bathroom. Within an hour she had us all dressed, fed, the dishes cleaned and put away, teeth and hair brushed and back on the road. She had the discipline of a drill instructor but she always had the heart of a mother. No matter how hectic or crazy life got, she knew each one of her kids and us strays. She knew which one didn't turn in a book report, didn't do their chores, was feeling lonely, keeping secrets or needed some space. They were her vocation, her career, the focus of her life.
I suppose she probably was a bit neurotic. Who isn't? She was also lonely after two unhappy marriages. It wasn't long after I met her that she met Phil and the two of them just clicked. On the surface, they were as different as two people can be and yet they completed each other. With Betty, Phil came alive and Phil made Betty feel safe enough to relax.
Phil was an easy going, big hearted Italian and the best man I ever knew. He was decent and honest and everyone who met him was a better person for having known him. He came over on the boat from Italy when he was only nine and married his high school sweetheart. When she became ill he cared for her and their children balancing his days between work, children and visits to the nursing home. Eventually loneliness began to gnaw at him and he seemed a bit like a lost soul.
That’s where Betty first met Phil. He was sitting alone at a local bar, staring into a drink. Betty and her best friend had stopped for a drink on their way home from visiting Darlene’s husband in the hospital. Betty was full of nervous energy from being cooped up too long. At heart she was a country girl and didn't like being confined. She needed to stretch her legs. They ordered a couple of beers and walked over to a booth. Betty wanted to play some music and was digging around for quarters when she saw Phil. The attraction was immediate. They were soul mates and they knew they belonged together. Separately they were both wonderful people but together they were something more. Their joy spilled over onto every life they touched.
They rented a big white farmhouse and moved in with both sets of children, step children, adopted children and me. I loved that old house and lived with them while my first husband was in the Marine Corps. It was a noisy house full of laughter and love. When I found out that my husband’s roommate “Sam” was really Samantha, we divorced. But Betty and Phil’s house was still like a second home to me. It was a place of refuge, a sanctuary. It was the place for the Thanksgiving Dinner or the Christmas Feast. In their home I always knew that I would be welcomed and loved.
Whenever there was a problem, Phil would take you out to the garage to work on the car. That was where he did his best tinkering. But he wasn't working on a car engine, he was teaching life lessons. He was old school – all about family responsibility, integrity and honor. Betty ruled the kitchen. It was always busy with something warming on the back burner and she was always quick to set another place at the table. At night she would slip away to a corner of the living room with a comfy chair and a really good reading light. Her secret love was a good novel and a bit of peace and quiet. Phil was the crossword king.
It was that house that I ran to when I lost my first child. When my thoughts were so painful I had to become numb to survive. I called from a pay phone barely able to speak and within an hour Betty and Phil were loading me into their car. They parked me in the window seat of the dining room. I was catatonic, like a potted plant in the window. I vaguely remember that time. It felt like I was underwater. I could see vague outlines of the people around me and their words were garbled. Mostly I remember feeling safe. I knew that Betty and Phil would protect me while I found a way to heal. I’m not sure how long I stayed there but gradually the noises crept in and I opened up. I blossomed there in that window seat, safe in the care of Betty and Phil.
Later when my daughter (named Elizabeth for Betty) was born, it was Betty who taught me how to be a Mom. I was so terrified of losing another child that I was almost afraid to touch her. Betty walked in and scooped her up from her cradle pulled off all the blankets and danced her around the living room. She giggled and cooed at Betty. Then Phil charmed her by singing in Italian and she smiled just for him. The love that Betty and Phil shared healed the wounds and silenced the fears of those they loved.
It was Phil who taught me how to make his spaghetti sauce. He taught me to cover the bottom of the cast iron skillet with olive oil, mince the fresh garlic and sauté it first, then the onions and mushrooms. He showed me how to sauté them just till they were transparent. He taught me about fresh tomatoes, Italian sausage and oregano. But the real secret to Phil’s famous spaghetti sauce is a dash of red vinegar. I think the secret to their happy home was a dash of red headed woman. That redheaded woman served corn bread or three bean salad or whatever was handy along with Lasagna, just to make enough to feed one more. She made sure that no one ever left her table hungry and she never hesitated to set another plate for dinner.
You never see the important ones coming. You don’t even realize it when they’re standing right in front of you. It takes half a lifetime and a continent before you understand what they did. I can’t imagine my life without Betty and Phil. Time and again they rescued me and without speaking a word gave comfort to a troubled child.
This is for you Betty and Phil and for all those who don't need to give birth to be good parents.
Update: Maybe we should all try to be like Betty & Phil. There are 25 million hungry kids in America. In America. We can all set an extra place at our tables.
Since you asked here's the Lasagna recipe.
Updated by stillonline at Thu May 12, 2011 at 10:48 AM PDT
Hillbilly Lasagna (corrected)
1 Lb Italian Sausage
2 TB olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 cup mushrooms
2 cloves of garlic, diced
1 lb Ricotta
1 egg
1 lb Mozzarella
2 cups Parmesan
Add oil to skillet
Add garlic, mushrooms, onions
Saute until clear
Add oregano, basil
Add meat
let it simmer till cooked
Add tomatoes to large soup pot
drain the fat from the meat mixture
add to soup pot
add more spice to taste
let simmer
Cook 1 lb package lasagna noodles & drain
Set aside
Mix one egg with Ricotta
Set aside
Cover bottom of 2” deep baking dish with sauce
Add layers of ricotta, cheese, sauce and noodles
top with cheese
Bake 45 minutes at 325°