Criticize Italians all you want (they’re lazy, infidelitous and incapable of paying their employees on time), but the one thing they’re always good for is food. Except, of course, when they’re merely only “of the descent.” You know, Long Islanders, Staten Islanders–in short, Eastern Seaboard Italians. Their willingness to compromise on the quality of the core of what makes pasta delizioso–sauce—is not only a desecration to their heritage, but also to food itself.
Worst than even using Prego or Bertoli is when they don’t bother mixing the sauce together, just pile it on in the center like one massive pile of shite. I don’t know if something in the dilution of their blood from pure Italian to bastard one twelve generations removed is what causes this compromise in the grade of product they choose to use, or if it’s that they, as “men,” simply expect a woman to do the cooking and therefore can’t be required to be left to their own devices. Whatever their reason, you won’t catch me over at an Italian American “man’s” house for dinner anytime soon.