We used to have a cat named Jack. Jack was a sly, slow-moving, long-haired Persian that would rarely come when called, but if you put out a small bowl of vanilla ice cream, out of nowhere he would magically appear.
This is sort of how my dad is with meatballs.
All I have to do is say, “Dad, I’m making meatballs,” and he’s half-way out the door on the way over. He loves these turkey meatballs.
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