Intricately stacked bottles filled with bright orange liquid wrapped in decorative white labels, much prettier than your standard grocery store shelves. With beautiful well-balanced displays of overpriced kitchen objects and fanciful pantry items with French names and organic ingredients, Williams-Sonoma sucks me in every time. Just like walking around Hobby Lobby gives me the false bravado that I could macramé something, perusing the displays at Williams-Sonoma fills me with the sensation that I could be a great chef.
So, I grab the orange bottle that contains Pumpkin Parmesan Sauce. The artisan label complete with a beautiful sketch of a pumpkin tells me that if I buy this bottle of sauce, my family will enjoy: A celebration of the autumn harvest, our handcrafted pasta sauce makes it easy to savor authentic Italian regional flavors at home.…As convenient as it is delicious, this artisanal sauce makes it easy to whip up a memorable meal. Simply heat the sauce, toss with your favorite pasta and serve.
I turn the bottle over and see the $15.00 price tag and put it back on the shelf only to have my husband snatch it immediately.
“The kids are so not worth a $15.00 bottle of pasta sauce,” I argued.
“Tough. We are trying it,” he replied firmly.
I was glad that I lost the battle and continued to fill our cart with ridiculously overpriced items.
The following evening, I heated the sauce in a pan and brought lobster and crab stuffed ravioli to a gentle boil for a special Sunday night dinner for my kids since their dad was already on an airplane destined for Connecticut. I topped the plump stuffed pasta circles with the slow-roasted pumpkin infused with heavy cream, aged Parmesano-Reggiano cheese, caramelized onions and roasted garlic.
I refrained from stealing a taste until everyone was seated and served. Most of us took a bite simultaneously with only my eleven-year-old son being the holdout and his ravioli were covered in butter instead of the pumpkin sauce.
“Gross,” said the six-year-old boy, who requests salads for lunch and prefers peppermints to chocolates.
“It’s okay,” says the eight-year-old girl, an already wonderful cook who aspires to be a professional chef someday who won’t have to get pseudo-gourmet flavor from a jar.
“I don’t like it,” said my three-year-old.
The kids were right. A mix of pumpkin, Parmesan and vomit stirred with feet covered our pasta. We scraped off the sauce to salvage a few raviolis, but we just mostly devoured our corn and sweet peas.
The remaining pasta was tossed in the trash and along with my trampled desires for a delicious dinner.
At $15.00 for the sauce, $10.00 for the ravioli and $1.75 total for a can of peas and a can of corn, I could have ordered pizza for less money and had happier children.
