“It’s from the south! Naples!”

A true story from yesteryear tapped-out in the form of a column: 

I yearned to know the ways in which Jews eat spaghetti.

So I’m invited to the Meckelberg’s house

for dinner and some early evening television.

Mrs. Meckleberg served-up spaghetti for dinner

probably in honor of my visit.

After some weak-assed soup,

she cleared the deeper dishes from the table,

and below these deeper dishes were

shallower, flatter, wider plates where

the strands of spaghetti would lie.

Two small gravy boats

were placed on the table for those wanting

extra tomato sauce.

Mrs. Meckelberg then laid out sparkling forks and tablespoons

side by side next to the plates.

I understood the fork addition, but we already had soup.

So why the tablespoon?

Vienna bread (cut with a knife), grated cheese,

iced water, cloth napkins, (who knew about linen?)

and that deep-bowl of a tablespoon, all laid-out for the feast.

What’s that tablespoon for?

My friend Edward Meckelberg, their only child,

was seated on the other side of table,

too far away to ask, and I couldn’t ask anyone else

without sounding dull-witted.

Edward dug into the spaghetti like a fierce

animal at the butt-end of the slowest impala,

using his frantic fork to twirl the strands,

resting the tines of the fork in the bowl

of the tablespoon provided by his mother

which seemed to function like an assistant

to the magic act of swirling spaghetti.

It was awkward, but I followed his lead, forking,

spooning and twirling the drenched strands of spaghetti

whose sauce was rather bland in relation to my standards.

Back home, I asked my young mother why

the Meckelbergs used tablespoons while eating spaghetti,

but she didn’t know,— neither did my father.

My mother, however, took it seriously enough to ask

my maternal grandmother who replied in agitated italian:

“E’ da sud! Napoli"!

And that's how I learned the ways in which Jews eat spaghetti.