|Store bought meatballs ready to be encased in a fresh hoagie bun|
Summer has finally arrived here in the north land. It's time to frolic outdoors half-naked, unencumbered without layers of nasty winter clothes,and dine alfresco under the stars with mosquitoes snacking for free on our warm blood or under the blazing sun until your skins starts to blister and peel, your choice. It's barbecue season and time to put away the brandy and break out the gin and tonics. We gather like hordes of black locust in back yards and wolf down over-cooked hamburgers and burnt wieners. You can always count on someone to proudly bring their horrendous pasta salad made with stupid looking corkscrew pasta. Why it exploded onto the food scene twenty years or so ago and unceremoniously kicked our mother's tuna salad (and I thought that was bad) to the curb, I'll never understand. It's always drenched in disgusting store-bought, lip-puckering oil and vinegar dressing that's laced with sick looking herbs that looks like my long forgotten ditch weed stash.
So, before my first barbecue in our way-too-short summer and my first case of summer intestinal flu caused by potato salad that sat in the sun for too long, I purchased Italian meatballs from the deli and made red sauce from my dwindling stock pile of my prized canned Roma tomatoes and made meatball sandwiches. I even chugged some brandy before I shoved it in the back of the liquor cabinet until the cold weather arrives in about ninety days. Wicked!