No, seriously. As everyone who follows me on Twitter probably knows, there’s two things with food that I do well: Wear it and burn it. And my husband is even less skilled than I am (when we got married, I showed him how to make toast) and so between the two of us, our dinners would be a constant, stinking hot mess.
But hallelujah! there is spaghetti sauce.
Thanks to that sweet jar of delights — and various other crack-open-and-cook food items — I have absolutely no stress in the kitchen. Days on deadline, days when I’m working 14-16 hours, and the last thing I want to do is spend more than thirty minutes in the kitchen, there is spaghetti sauce. Days when my daughter needs help with her homework and she’s so sweet and I just want to hug her and kiss her all of the time, I do that instead of cook, because there is spaghetti sauce.
I am also grateful for:
Alfredo sauce and cooks-in-seven-minutes pasta
Ore-Ida’s tater tots (although, yeah, I did start a tater-tot fire in the oven.)
My mother-in-law, at whose house we have dinner every other day, and who makes stuff like this (and, w00t! is what I’m having tonight):