There’s a restaurant in Tucson that sells spaghetti by the bucket and I think that is hilarious. We drive past it all the time going to Costco (it’s on the east side, on Kolb near Grant). I threaten to go, Zach says no way, and we drive on by. Well, we finally gave By the Bucket a try. I said, “There’s By the Bucket!” Zach said, “Yep.” I said, “We should get some,” and much to my delight Zach said yes. I swung my car around to the driveway of By the Bucket and practically ran inside.
The first thing you notice is how deserted the place is. There was one guy waiting at the counter for his to-go order in his pajama bottoms and I could see that the guy behind the counter was flustered because now there was more than one person waiting for spaghetti. The guy behind the counter was sweaty from all the pasta steam. I watched as he carefully bagged the food for the waiting man.
When it was our turn, we ordered the Family Bucket and Zach went outside to wait in the car because he too was now getting sweaty from the spaghetti steam. I sat on the bench in the restaurant and watched the spaghetti man. I wondered, how does a place like this stay in business so long? I looked on my phone and discovered that this is the only location in Tucson. Was this his business? Did he announce one day to his family that he had an amazing idea that was going to make millions … “Spaghetti by the Bucket! We can’t lose!” A self-made man.
As he fished out approximately four giant meatballs from a huge pot of sauce I thought, what if he isn’t the owner? What if he’s just some middle-aged guy scooping spaghetti into buckets? That doesn’t sound as grand. It was kind of sad.
When my order was finally assembled and bagged, I used that opportunity to ask about the operation. “So, do you just come in in the morning and boil a bunch of spaghetti?” “Yeah,” he said without even the slightest hint of enthusiasm. He was definitely not the owner.
I carried the spaghetti out to the car and Zach gasped at the size of the bucket. “That’s a lot of spaghetti.” I couldn’t stop laughing. I didn’t care if it was good or bad or too much, I had finally gotten myself a bucket of spaghetti.
All the way back home to Patagonia I couldn’t stop talking about my bucket of spaghetti. I hypothesized about the origin of the business. I wondered about the guy who assembled the order. I wondered why it had never become a chain. Zach, like the good sport he always is, allowed me to go on and on. I started to ponder out loud what other food would be good to sell by the bucket. The first one is obvious if you live by the border: Bucket of Beans. This and a side of tortillas and you’ve got a meal.
I was on my way to expanding the “by the bucket” concept when I realized that they already sell chicken by the bucket and most Mexican restaurants sell menudo and pozole by the bucket. Then there’s the bucket of crab legs and buckets of beer. I conceded that the spaghetti man was onto something. Zach finally said, “Maybe you should write about this since you can’t stop talking about it?” My cue to shut up.
We got home and ate our bucket of spaghetti. It wasn’t bad. Will I go back to By the Bucket? Probably not. The thrill is gone. If anyone wants to go in halves on the Bucket of Beans concept, I’m all ears.
Postscript: The fact checkers at the PRT have pointed out to me that By the Bucket is in fact a Payson, Arizona-based franchise with locations all over the Phoenix Valley in addition to the one in Tucson. Their story is similar to what I imagined: a guy with a dream to make millions selling buckets of spaghetti. So the sweaty guy at the Tucson location could very well have been the franchise owner trying to make it big. I’d rather believe that than the alternative.
Cassina Farley can be contacted at cassinaandzachfarley@msn.com.