I had a craving for what Mom used to make — Midwestern food that’s frankly not always top-drawer, or camera-ready for that matter, or particularly good for you, but that comes with all those comforting associations. With my wife in school, I’m the one who’s responsible for dinner. So I made something merely acceptable on purpose: spaghetti with the red sauce out of the bottle, red sauce that’s sweet and salty and insubstantial, with the spaghetti overcooked to just that right familiar consistency, all of it heavily dusted with that cheese dust from the green can. With a little iceberg-lettuce side salad. Man, did it hit the spot perfectly, and, man, we won’t be doing that again for awhile.