My father grew up in New York City during the Depression. He discovered Chinatown at an early age, the beginning of his love affair with noodles. When I was a kid, we'd take the subway downtown to eat lo mein in tiny basement restaurants on Mott Street. <br /> <br />My Mom, a pretty good sport, made my Dad spaghetti most Saturday nights, always served in his special "noodle bowl". She drew the line at this favorite of his, so I used to whip up a batch for just the two of us. Mama would simply shake her head, watching as we wolfed down noodles, always eaten with chopsticks. <br /> <br />When we lost my father to cancer almost twenty years ago, it just about broke my heart. I inherited many gifts from him, including his love of noodles and, of course, his noodle bowl...Happy Father's Day, Daddy - all my love, Tootie - Lizthechef

Share: