Thursday, December 27, 2007

How To Picnic Like An Italian

This week while visiting my mother in Arizona, I've been making time to go through the stuff I have stored in her shed. I'm organizing, getting rid of things and making room for more useless shit. Uh, stuff.

I came across a book called "Dad - Share Your Life With Me..." as I picked through the boxes. It's one of those books you give your parents, asking them to fill it out before they leave this earth and you realize you forget to ask them a whole bunch of stuff. This one covers things from childhood to the present, which questions ranging from "What did your father do for a living?" to "Do you have any ice skating memories to share?"

As the two year anniversary of my father's
death draws near, coming across this book was a bittersweet treat. I am so thrilled that he so thoroughly answered all the questions. I'm still reading, but so far my favorite answer is the one he wrote for this question: Share a memory about going on a picnic.

His answer was: "We would go on lots of picnics; Bear Mountain, Valley Stream on Long Island, New Jersey. But we would bring all the things we would normally have home. A big pot of gravy, chicken, salad, bread, soda, etc. BQ some hot dogs or burgers. But mostly macaroni."

This is just one example of the way food and my father's cooking has infused our life; and if my Aunt Ronni was there, forget about it, she was exactly the same way. We would go fishing in the Moriches on Long Island or up to Swan Lake in upstate New York and we'd be the only people with eggplant parmigiana sandwiches, breaded chicken cutlets, roasted red peppers, Italian bread, Capicola, fresh mozzarella, Soppresata, our favorite beverages and either a Thermos filled with espresso or the actual espresso pot to make it fresh. We were fishing with a cooler stocked like the hundreds of Italian Pork Stores that dot the East Coast, sipping espresso and munching on Biscotti.

To me, this is the way to "do" life; sharing good times and making memories with family and friends, but never being too far from a good chunk of lasagna, fresh mozzarella
(see the Mozzarella di Bufala) and a good crusty Italian bread.

And you wonder why I eat out so often and have a teensy weensy obsessive relationship with food?

3 comments:

Tui Snider said...

Feels so good to empty a storage unit, doesn't it? I'm both looking forward to and dreading emptying mine back in the states.

I gave my folks a similar book, but don't think they've filled it out. How wonderful that your dad took time to do so.

I hear ya on the food. Dang, so tied up with memories. But I didn't know about fresh mozzarella di bufala 'til I came to Naples. Omigod!

Real Live Lesbian said...

Oh wow! Now I'm dying to picnic with you!

You are officially invited on the boat this summer. Anytime.

You're in charge of the food! ;)

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