Thursday, November 29, 2007

Thursday 13: My Italian Father

This is for my Dad, who died at home January 12 years ago, surrounded by his family loving him non-stop. He had red hair and was born in Lexington Massachusetts--not exactly an authentic Italian like his mother and father. None-the-less, I know he would chuckle at this write-up of Italian Sunday dinners. And not too far from the truth.
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(This came to me from the Internet and I don't know who to rightly credit. Thanks to someone named Dian, who adds her/his comment at the end)
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Sunday Dinner for Italians
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1.Italians have a $40,000 kitchen, but use the $259 stove from Sears in the basement to cook.
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2.There is some sort of religious statue in the hallway, living room, bedroom, front porch and backyard.
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3.The living room is filled with old wedding favors with poofy net bows and stale almonds (they are too pretty to open).
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4. And a portrait of the Pope and Frank Sinatra in the dining room.
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5. Meatballs are made with Pork, Veal and Beef. Italians don't care about cholesterol.
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6.Turkey is served on Thanksgiving, AFTER the manicotti, gnocchi, lasagna and soup.
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7.If anyone says ITALIAN WEDDING SOUP, let him/her know that there is no wedding, nor is there an Italian in the soup. Also, the tiny meatballs must be made by hand.
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9.No matter how hard you know you were going to get smacked, you still came home from church after communion, you stuck half a loaf of bread in the sauce pot, snuck out a fried meatball and chowed down - you'll make up for it next week at confession.
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10. Sunday dinner was at 2:00. The meal went like this: Table is set with everyday dishes...doesn't matter if they don't match...they're clean, What more do you want?All the utensils go on the right side of the plate and the napkin goes on the left. Put a clean kitchen towel at Nonno & Papa's plate because they won't use napkins. Homemade wine and bottles of 7up are on the table. First course, Antipasto...change plates. Next, Macaroni (Nonna called all pasta Macaroni)...change plates. After that, Roasted Meats, Roasted Potatoes, Over-cooked Vegetables...change plates.THEN and only then (NEVER AT THE BEGINNING OF THE MEAL) would you eat the salad (HOMEMADE OIL & VINEGAR DRESSING ONLY)...change plates . Next, Fruit & Nuts - in the shell (on paper plates because you ran out> > of the other ones). > Coffee with Anisette (Espresso for Nonno, 'Merican' coffee for the rest) with hard Cookies to dip in the coffee.
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11. The kids go play...the men go to lay down. They slept so soundly you could perform brain surgery on them without anesthesia..the women clean> the kitchen.
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12. Getting screamed at by Mom or Nonna - half the sentence was English, the other half Italian.
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13. Italian mothers never threw a baseball in their life, but can nail you> > in the head with a shoe thrown from the kitchen while you're in the living room.
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and one extra:
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14 .Prom Dress that Zia Ceserina made you...$20.00 for material. Prom,hair-do from Cousin Angela...$Free. Turning around at prom to see your entire family (including Godparents) standing in the back of the gym...PRICELESS!

The hardest arithmetic to master is that which enables us to count our blessings.As ever,Dian

17 comments:

  1. I loved this post! Close to my heart :)))

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  2. When I was in New jersey, I lived in a building surrounded by the Italian district, the Jewish district, the Puerto Rican and Cuban district and the black district. The Cubans disliked the Puerto Ricans who disliked the Cubans; no one was ever seen walking in the Jewish district except the elderly ladies pulling their metal grocery carts with groceries from PathMark; we risked being mugged, robbed or assaulted in the black district, so the only place left that was safe for us to walk was the Italian district. The other ethnic groups dared not mess with the Italians whose streets were clean and rustic with street cafes. There, my friends and I walked without fear for our safety and since we were the only Filipinos in town, they knew we were nurses and everyone was very friendly to us.

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  3. Being from an Italian family myself, I totally get this. It takes me back. My father, his family, it's all true, except the 7-up.

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  5. Lovely post!

    I particularly liked nos 4 & 13 :)

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  6. I love this!! My Pop-pop was Italian and I remember his funeral so well ... ample, dark-haired women alternately weeping and happily urging me to "Mange! Helpa youself!" I only met them that one time and they're in my heart forever.

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  7. Can you let me have the link for Chapter 1 of your story please? I don't seem to be able to find it - don't laugh :)

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  8. :) Okay, now I'm rolling over! My youngest daughter is Italian (And of course I'm not and neither is her father) and I have spent 21 years mastering lasagna to teach her the Italiano way (because I want to encourage her ethniticity) and she still calls me EVERY time she bakes it for the recipe! And I still have to look it up! We're trying, we're really trying!

    peace~love girl, I love it!

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  9. WOE is your knee, I am sending healing energy right now KJ!

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  10. pieterbie, i love italy too. i hope to go back sometime and live in a little village for a new months, and do nothing else but write and eat and stroll... :)

    anon, i'm glad you liked it!

    ces, the italian sections of most cities--boston included--are as you describe them here: clean, safe, and authentic.

    rm, it took me back too.

    milady, i like the baseball aim best! and it's quite true! and the prom--i've seen this with my own eyes! ps i'll get you the info on chapter one. i think if you go into my older posts, it's there in october. i'll check it out.

    melissa, mange! mange! how well i remember that. who is your pop-pop?

    singleton, you can count on me for a few great italian recipes: sauce, eggplant parm, lasagna, garlic bread. funny story about you and your daughter. somethings just can't be put to memory!

    anon, you are so sweet. my surgery went well, i am exercising,icing, and sleeping in that order. so far, so good. thanks so much for the thought.

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  11. I'm sending many healing vibes your way! I'm so glad that it went well! Whew!

    My pop-pop was my paternal grandfather -- he was my dad's step dad, so we don't share genes, but we share lots of family. :)

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  12. So, so funny... and so, so true! Thanks for the belly laugh:> (hope you're well)

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  13. I'm sending many, many, many healing vibes your way now!!! Sleeping, icing, then exercising might be a better order, especially if Red Mojo is dropping off TUBS of ice-cream :)

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  14. I think you should tell r=everyone about the time Nathan, our nephew came to dinner at your parent's house. He remember it to this day.

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  15. If your husband died you had to wear black for the rest of your life.

    There was plastic on the living room furniture and lampshades..just in case the Pope, Sinatra, or the Godfather dropped in.

    The whole Virgin Mary thingamabob was extended to everyone's Mother..she never did that thing with the old man..you never EVER insulted somebody's Mama...which is nice except for the whole goomba thing..misogeny 101.

    America LOVES gangsters and thanks to all of those movies, filmgoers believe that there was some sort of code of honour amonst them. HA!

    Mafioso mentality is the epitome of situational ethics and opportunism..disgustingly fluid in it's application...but they were white hoodlums.

    My favorite story is how Lucky Luciano offered to bump off Mussolini to prove what a good American he was..pfft.

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