Daily Newsie

The Best Friend and I entered the unassuming shop hopefully, eyeing the bare shelves. The storekeeper approached, asked us what we wanted, then pointed us to a large white bag near the dingy windows. I picked it up, turned it over in my hands, felt the solid heft of the familiar powder I knew was inside.

“I have more in the back,” the guy volunteered, disappearing into a doorway only to re-emerge with a taped-up box. He deftly slit it open and handed over two more bags, then ran my credit card and sent us out the door with a smile.

And, just like that, Spatini re-entered my life. I am now in possession of two 15-ounce bags (I gave the third to my father) of the stuff, which we’ve used for as long as I can remember to flavor spaghetti sauce. I’m not really sure what’s in it or when it came into existence, but it’s been a part of our family for a very, very long time. For some reason I could never find it in Ohio or Kentucky, so my father kept me in boxes of it — three packets to a box, and I only ever used half a packet to make sure I wouldn’t ever be without it. Daddy called one day to tell me that a stocker at the local grocery store told him Spatini was discontinued, and I was, for a brief time, inconsolable. A strongly-worded letter did no good, so I used my last packet and resigned myself to life without Spatini.

Until — until! — The Best Friend and I were driving through the town where she lives, and I saw a marquee: “We have Spatini.” We had to stop. The store owner told us that Lawry’s no longer makes individual packets but still manufactures ginormous bags of the stuff, so I stocked up and kept the receipt so I can find the place again. My father likened receiving his pack of Spatini to Christmas morning, and I can hardly wait to get home and make some spaghetti.