Call Me Kat

Growing up, the days of the week carried their own special meanings. Mondays meant meatloaf for dinner, and Fridays were always meatless. Tuesdays and Thursdays blur in my memory, but Saturdays alternated between baked beans and pancakes. Sundays were reserved for the “big dinner”—usually a roasted something or other.

But for my siblings and me, Wednesday was the best day of all. It wasn’t just the middle of the week—it was “Prince Spaghetti Day.”

Poor Mom. In fairness, she wasn’t much of a cook, though it wasn’t for lack of effort. She wasn’t exactly June Cleaver from Leave It to Beaver, and her experiments in the kitchen sometimes left lasting impressions—for better or worse. To this day, I can’t look at a cut of lamb without flashbacks to the infamous “roast leg of lamb” dinner. Without going into too much detail, let’s just say, “Nevermore.”

But there was one meal Mom always nailed. Every Wednesday, without fail, she delivered the dinner we couldn’t wait to devour. We’d race upstairs to our little second-floor apartment, above our grandparents, eager to see the table already set for supper.

We were only four—Mom, my older brother, my younger sister, and me—but each of us had a clearly defined spot at the table. Our plates, bowls, and cups were Melamine (what we’d call plastic today), speckled with tiny flecks of color. And there was never any confusion: each piece was a different shade, and we all knew which color belonged to whom.

At the center of the table was the real star of the show: the big, speckled bowl filled to the brim with steaming hot American Chop Suey. Mom’s magical mix of elbow macaroni, ground beef, and spaghetti sauce was perfection in a bowl.

Back then, we lived for the commercials proclaiming, “Wednesday is Prince Spaghetti Day!” And in our household, it truly was. Mom’s version of this classic meal never let us down. The three of us showed our appreciation in the best way we knew how—by eating until we were stuffed.

No matter what else was happening, Wednesday always felt a little brighter. It wasn’t just about the food—it was about the ritual, the consistency, and the warmth of knowing that on that day, Mom couldn’t miss.

The days of the week held special meanings.  Monday meant meatloaf for dinner, and of course there was Meatless Friday.  I don’t recall Tuesday or Thursday, Saturday was either baked beans or pancakes, and Sunday was the big dinner, roasted something or other.  For my siblings and myself however, Wednesday was “the” day.  The day our mom couldn’t go wrong.  Poor mom.  In all honesty she wasn’t a very good cook to three voracious children.  She did try, but she wasn’t a Leave it to Beaver sort of mom.  To this day I cannot eat lamb because every time I see that little cut of meat in the grocery store I have flashbacks to the day of the “roast leg of lamb” dinner.  Without delving into the mysteries of all that was wrong with that meal, I will simply say, “Nevermore”.

But, there was one meal she never got wrong.  It was the one day of the week we each looked forward to.  The day we would run upstairs to our small second floor apartment, above our grandparents apartment, and see the table laid out for  Wednesday supper.  There were only four of us.  Mom, my older brother, myself and my younger sister, and we each had our place at the table marked by plates, bowls and cups in one each of four colors.  There was never any doubt as to who’s plate belonged to who.  The dinner dishes were made of Melamine, in today’s words: plastic, with tiny multi-colored speckles throughout.  On Wednesdays the centerpiece was the big, speckled bowl filled with steamy, hot American Chop Suey!  After all, back then, Wednesday was known as Prince Spaghetti Day!  That special day in the middle of the week when it was regularly announced on the television that today was the day to feast on Prince Macaroni!  And we did.  Mom’s mixture of elbow macaroni, ground beef, and spaghetti sauce never let us down.  Somehow, it was the one meal she always got right and we kids showed our approval by eating as much of it as possible.