Spaetzle. No, I Didn’t Sneeze.

We have this awesome little grocery story in town called Bargain Buys. They have overstocks, dented stuff, stuff near (or, let’s be honest, past) its Best By date. They also have fresh meat and cheese from the Walnut Creek Amish.

The blessing and the curse of a place like that is that you never know what you’ll find there. What makes it a curse is that you never know if you’ll ever find that thing again.

A couple of visits ago, I found a packet of dried spaetzle. In case you don’t know, that’s a little German egg noodle, sort of like a gnocci. Just a little nubbin of egg noodle pasta, which you boil in water or soup.

On this particular night, I cooked some. While the salted water was heating, I cut up some broccoli, including the stems. The spaetzle had to cook for 20 minutes so, when I put it into the water, I also put in the toughest bits of stem. 10 minutes later, I put in the small, tender parts of stem. 5 minutes later, I put in the florets. Then I drained it and dressed it with some of my homemade pesto.

I took some bread, spread it with garlic-infused olive oil, sprinkled it with Italian cheese mix, and broiled it until the cheese melted.

Good! And, I think, pretty!

A WRITING PROMPT FOR YOU: Have a character discover a new food from his or her own family heritage.


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I was born in Louisville, Kentucky, but now live in the woods in southern Indiana. Though I only write fiction, I love to read non-fiction. The more I learn about this world, the more fantastic I see it is.

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