12 christmas memories: part V

And now the last installment of my 12 Christmas Memories meme:

10. Best Christmas Present Ever

I know it might seem strange for me to name an afghan as my best Christmas present ever, but it was (and I know Shannon understands). I really wish I had it here with me (it's in storage in the US) so I could take a photo for you. And better yet, curl up with it.

I was around 10 years old when my mom started promising afghans, crocheted by her, for my brother and me. I'd occasionally see her working on the little squares that were to make up mine throughout the year--different shades of pink, flowers, typical girly stuff. As Christmas drew closer and her time was taken up by cookies though, she made it pretty clear that they wouldn't be done for the holidays.

But then while unwrapping gifts, I got to a big old clumsy box that I assumed was a coat. As I lifted the lid, what to my wondering eyes should appear?

My very own pink-and-white flowered afghan.

Even at that young age, I had some idea of just how much work went into every single square that made up that thing, and I just felt so special and loved that my mom would surrender sleep and other more enjoyable activities (which she surely did) to stitch and stitch and stitch just to make it all happen for Christmas.

A warm fuzzy wrapped up in a warm fuzzy, if you will.

Must get that afghan here. Love it love it love it so.

11. Falling Asleep on Pap's Presents

OK, this one isn't a memory so much as a really cute photo that unfortunately I don't have with me to scan for you.

When I was just a wee lass I suppose I became overwhelmed with the Christmas goings-on quite easily and so I stopped to rest just a moment.

Right on top of all my grandfather's presents.

I was out for a few hours, apparently, and he just had to wait to see what Santa brought him.

What a trooper, eh?

It's a really cute picture, I promise.

12. My First Christmas with P

Nothing too spectacular happened, but 2005 was our first holiday season together and that alone made it magical.

On Christmas Eve, we went out for pizza of all things, which I actually thought was a fun tradition to start--only then the restaurant wasn't open the following year. So now I'll always remember that first Christmas Eve all that much more.

It was rather romantic actually as the fireplace was going and we were the only ones in the place besides the owners and their family who joined us after a while. Then we went around visiting some friends in the village but were home by midnight; and despite growing up opening gifts on Christmas day, I just couldn't wait any longer for P to open his, so at my insistence we did gifts around 1 a.m.

He had never gotten a stocking before! Can you believe it? So I was sure to stuff it with all kinds of exciting things like shaving cream and razors.

And I wrapped every single thing individually. Hah!

Then Christmas Day we spent with P's sister and her family (they have two children) and P's parents--always wonderful to see children enjoying Christmas, isn't it?

Like I said, nothing too special for that first Christmas...other than the company of course. And that's really what it's all about for me. Those warm, cozy feelings of love that stick with you for a lifetime as my dear friend Wanderlust Scarlett so kindly reminded me by tagging me with this meme.

Honestly, I can't tell you how much writing this and taking photos around my house has helped me get into the holiday spirit. It's been so wonderful to remember all of the great holiday seasons I've been lucky to have and makes being away from home at this time of year just a little easier.

So thank you, thank you, thank you Wanderlust Scarlett and I wish the happiest of holiday seasons to you all!

12 christmas memories: part IV

For Part IV of My 12 Favorite Christmas Memories as inspired by Wanderlust Scarlett's meme, I'm going to stick with the childhood theme. If you haven't yet, you should also check out Parts I, II, and III.

Now here are three more that come from my earlier years, and since we just talked about cookies, let's stay there for a moment.

7. Jeanie & Joe eating all the kolaches

Jeanie was my great-aunt's daughter and Joe was her husband. That might sound rather extended to you, but since my Aunt Babe lived about 30 seconds away from her sister (my grandmother), our families were always quite close, especially around the holidays--and my Aunt Babe remains one of my most favorite people in the world. She knows everything!

And what are kolaches? My mom's version looks something like this:


Walnut goodness wrapped in cream cheese dough and sprinkled with powdered sugar. I made these this year, but I had to improvise because I couldn't find a square ravioli cutter like she uses. In Italy! I couldn't find the ravioli cutter I needed! Harumph!

So I used a round one, which makes smaller ravioli and that made rolling these babies a lot more challenging. They're still delicious though, and that's what matters, right?

Well kolaches were probably the most sought after cookie at my grandmother's house (she also made them) during the holidays--so much so that my mom used to make a tray just for my grandfather to keep *in his bedroom*. Yes, this grandfather.

Anyway, Jeanie and Joe lived a couple hours away from us, so they came in for the holidays right as they were beginning, which left their visiting time to a minimum. And so, they'd come over, often individually, on Christmas morning, which as you can imagine, was always quite hectic as anywhere from 5 to 15 people would be eating dinner there at noon.

My grandmother always played the perfect hostess, though, despite having a million other things to do--she truly loved their visits.

But after a while she noticed that there would always be a huge dent made in the cookie tray in the area of the kolaches after Joe left--and let's be honest, it was mainly Joe who was the culprit. So my grandmother would purposely take most of the kolaches off the tray (she'd leave him a few of course), often literally as he was coming up the walkway.

"Joe's coming! Grab the kolaches!" *was* shouted.

Jeanie was mostly innocent in the Great Kolache Fiasco but she's thrown in this memory because her Christmas morning visits were always such a huge part of the holidays, and also because she recently passed away.

Jeanie was just 62 years old, and her husband Joe passed away last year after a long debilitating illness which included a heart transplant. Their children are around my age, and I think of them more often than ever.

And now with the holidays, wonderful memories of their parents have really come rushing back to me, and I hope they do for them as well.

8. I'm Mary!

OK, let's lighten things up with a fun memory from about fourth grade--when I was chosen to play Mary in the church play of the Nativity Scene.


I was never the one chosen for things like that, and to be honest, I thought one of my best friends who eventually became the angel would be Mary, but nope. I was Mary! Everyone was so proud!

I think we picked names out of a hat or something, so it really was no big feat to have won the non-speaking role. But whatever. I was Mary! I wrapped the Baby Jesus in swaddling clothes!

And I do have a photo of it somewhere, just not here. Sorry. Maybe next year.

Also, attached to this memory? I was also the one who got to put the Baby Jesus in the manger on Christmas morning in our nativity scene at home. Woohoo! The benefits of being the youngest in the house!

9. Caroling with Friends

They don't really do the caroling thing around here (not that I've seen/heard anyway), but I do have a fond memory of caroling when I was probably about 12 years old.

A group of girlfriends, probably about 10 of us, went around one evening and sang and sang and sang--and if anyone wonders why I know the words to just about any Christmas song, this is probably why. Seriously, try me.

One blustery December night, instead of going home after school, we all went to the house that would serve as Caroling Central. We got all bundled up (it was *freezing*!), and then walked around town, avoiding slushy puddles and snow piles, stopping at random houses, especially near those that were all lit up, assuming they'd certainly appreciate the effort.

We got invited into so many homes, drank far too much hot cocoa, and even made some cash--which we spent later that night on pizza if I recall correctly. Guess we could've donated the money, but hey, we were 12. And hungry.

Ah, and of course there was a huge slumber party afterwards.

I had almost forgotten about this memory until Wanderlust Scarlett and I got "talking" via email. I'm so happy that she reminded me! I don't have contact with most of those girls anymore, but some of them are still my best friends--and you know who you are--and I'm certainly thinking of you this Christmas.

Ah, small town America in the late 1980s.

Come back tomorrow for the final installment of My 12 Favorite Christmas Memories!

12 christmas memories: part II

Yesterday the first installment of my 12 Christmas Memories meme revolved a lot around my grandmother. Yes, that wonderful lady was always a big part of what made Christmas so special, and here are some more family memories.

3. Christmas Lights with Pap Pap

You may remember my grandfather from this post. There I mentioned he was curmudgeonly, but if there was one thing that melted his heart in addition to his grandchildren and great-grandchildren, it was Christmas.

Lights in particular.

I don’t really know when it became tradition, but for as long as I can remember, every year around the big day, an hour or so after dinner to make sure everyone had their lights on but weren’t in bed yet, my Pap Pap and I would drive around the area admiring all the displays--and yes, I do mean DISPLAYS of lighted trees, reindeer, Santas, bear, snowmen, candy canes, wishing wells, you name it and someone within a 20-mile radius had it on the lawn or hanging off the house.

We never did the outside of our house quite so Griswoldesque (no complaints from me on that one!) but I always appreciated the time and effort that others put into it.

And that was something I shared with my Pap Pap, every year in fact.

4. Christmas Eve Footsteps

Remember yesterday when I talked about the Christmas Eve tradition in which everyone came to my grandparents' house after church?

Well 1998 was our first holiday season without my grandfather who had passed away that June, and it was business as usual at the house on Christmas Eve. My brother and I were seated side by side at the table, eating more than necessary I’m sure.

Suddenly, simultaneously, he and I turned our heads toward the back door to our right, expecting someone to come in. We had obviously both heard a noise outside, but didn’t say anything--I figured it was the wind, and I’m sure he did as well--and just went back to eating and talking.

A few minutes later, our heads did the same thing toward the door, and when no one came in, my brother looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you hear that?”

I sure did.

Nearly together we blurted out that we had heard twice, minutes apart, the unmistakable sound of someone stomping snow off of their shoes on our wooden back porch, preparing to come into the house. Something that was pretty connected to our grandfather in both our minds; he certainly never entered the house quietly in the winter.

Only that night, there was no one there.

No one that we could see anyway.

5. Dad’s Family Movie Light

Last year for Christmas, my brother and his wife got our old family movies transferred to DVD. Honestly it’s rather strange to me that my family even has these because it’s just so out of character--hard to explain why but it's in the "We're *so* not The Waltons" category. Trust me. It’s odd.

Anyway, from 1970 to 1980, our family is documented. I had never seen any of the movies before they were on DVD, and watching them for the first time was so emotional for so many reasons that I’ll probably write more about that at some point. But right now, sticking on-topic, the point is that one of my favorite Christmas memories has to do with my dad's documenting those family moments.

Every time he wanted to take video, he also had to set up a huge, blinding spotlight alongside the camera for adequate lighting. And so, my every early childhood memory of a major event involves squinting into the exaggerated beam, feeling its heat envelop me, and fighting the urge to just look away, pout, and throw a tantrum. I used to be big on those.

And, lest you doubt it, Christmases were *the* main event of our family movies.

Every year up until I was probably five or six years old, I'd put on my (new) pajamas and get ready for my close-up. We made a literal production of hanging our stockings and putting out cookies and milk for Santa --and some pretty cute video emerged if I do say so myself.

And then Christmas morning? Rubbing the sleepies out of my eyes while plodding down the stairs, one hand on the railing to balance me?

LIGHT!!!!!!!!!!

And of course filming continued throughout gift opening, catching each and every ooh and aah face (no sound you know) along the way.

And that light was *always* on.

But now looking back, the shocking brightness doesn't seem nearly so bad--the extremes always do fade with memory, don't they? In fact after watching those movies, I kind of wish that light could make a comeback just for one more Christmas.

I'd even buy new pajamas for it.


P.S. Thanks so much to all who voted for me in Write from Karen's Photo Contest: Holiday Cheer!

My photo didn't win, but a fabulous, kitty-themed photo did--check it out at My Life as Mama Jodi. Congratulations Jodi!

12 christmas memories: part I

Christmas celebrators, we're in the home stretch! Are you ready?

First, could you please go here and vote for me (for this photo) in Write From Karen's Photo Contest? I'm running way behind peeps...aiuto!

You can vote here up until 8 pm Central tonight!

Now to keep you in the spirit, I'll be writing about my favorite Christmas memories all this week. I am obligated inspired to do this by Ms Wanderlust Scarlett, who has tagged me to write about 12 Christmas anythings--that is, I could've written about my favorite Christmas carols, presents, traditions, etc.

But I chose my 12 favorite Christmas memories, and I'm going to do it in installments because I want to write more than just a line for each one. I hope you understand.

I'm also going to use this opportunity to share some Christmas photos throughout this week-long meme. I hope you enjoy it!

By the way, yesterday Katerina of Olio di Oliva e Sogni di Vino tagged me with the same task, so do check out her meme as well.

I'm supposed to tag 12 people to do this, but I'm only specifically tagging the lovely Cheeky because I know she's dying to do this one. For the rest of you, I know it's a busy time so just feel free to participate if you like. If you do, please link to me and Wanderlust Scarlett, creatress of the meme, so we can find your list.

Here we go!

1. Decorating the Staircase

I grew up in a house that virtually exploded with red, green, and gold at Christmastime and I loved it. I loved every minute that those lights twinkled around me and enveloped me in winter warmth--and I always felt a bit deflated once they had to come down after the Epiphany. Every corner was Christmas in my house growing up--even in the bathroom.

I don't know about you, but in my experience, a normally cozy house becomes extraordinarily welcoming and warm with Christmas decorations.

Plus I just *love* sleeping by the lights of the Christmas tree.

*sigh*

I always helped my grandmother put up the decorations sometime after Thanksgiving; in case you don't know, I lived with my grandmother, so when I talk about my grandmother's house, that's my house too.

Decorating was always a big production since everything had to be brought up from the basement, every day knick knacks had to be packed away carefully, lights had to be tested.

We're talking all day, Christmas music blaring fun.

And although every year was special, I'll never forget the first time I was entrusted with the staircase railing. From the first to second floor of my childhood home, there are about 15 steps with a railing that runs up the side--and it's located right in the middle of the house in the hallway.

Other than the tree, and even more than the faux fireplace, *this* was the focal point of the Christmas-themed house.

Holly garland, small white lights, old wooden ornaments that I had painted as a young child, other old-fashioned wooden ornaments that lost more arms and legs with each passing year no matter how carefully they were wrapped, stained glass ornaments I had made as an older child, and some of the funniest looking elves I've ever seen--plastic faces, cloth bodies, knees scrunched to chest--covered the railing for a good long month.

Slight digression: the first year I was in Italy I saw a box of ornaments similar to the old-fashioned wooden ones I always used on the staircase. I couldn't believe it, but they were kind of steep in price, so I let them sit. Then they were still there the next year, just that one box of ornaments that made me think of home every time I saw it.

And I found it in the same spot the following year as well.

Well this year I finally bought them because I now understand that they were waiting for me. I'm so glad they've been patient.

Here's the snowman that to my eye is identical to the one I remember from the staircase ornaments:


I just loved decorating that staircase, and my grandmother knew it because even when I was in college and she had all the other decorations up by the time I got home for break, she left the staircase bare for me.

Rolling out that garland, wrapping lights around it, and then positioning the ornaments just so--definitely one of my fondest Christmas memories. I simply adored how that decorated staircase lit up the heart of the house with a warm glow throughout the holiday season, and I loved that I was responsible for it.

2. The Christmas Eve Routine

Around 4 pm, we'd have dinner--something to hold us over until after Mass, which was usually around 7 pm. It was always fish of some sort as we weren't allowed to have meat until after we went to Mass. Yes, those were our household rules.

But before we went off to church, there were lots of preparations for after church. This is because after early Mass, much of the extended family and friends came to my grandmother's house for a few hours. There was always ham, potato salad, pickled eggs, deviled eggs, and many trays full of cheese, olives, pickles. Ah, and also suppresata and ringed bologna.

And raisin bread. And various nuts. And fruit. And chocolates.

And the trays of homemade cookies, of course.

And I'm sure I'm forgetting some of the foods; Christmas Eve was a feast second only to Thanksgiving in our house, and a lot of people had to eat standing up because the kitchen was always spilling over with well-wishers.

For those wondering about the lack of typical Italian food, don't worry. It came the next day in the form of homemade ravioli, spaghetti, rigatoni, meatballs, and more.

In conjunction with this memory, perhaps a 2(a), is my memory of the first Christmas without my grandmother in 2001. She had passed away less than two months before, and it was so hard even being in that house without her, let alone at the holidays, which were without a doubt her favorite time of the year.

My dad absolutely wanted to keep that Christmas Eve tradition alive and so before church, I ran around getting together all the trays and plates and cups and everything that we'd need because, of course, other than my grandmother, I was the only one who knew where everything was and how everything was supposed to go.

I do miss those Christmas Eves, but I also know they don't really exist anymore without my grandparents there.

But oh what memories I'm so lucky to have.

ghost of christmas past (revisited)

The newly-crowned Princess Wanderlust Scarlett has tagged me for a most glorious Christmas meme--to write about 12 of my favorite Christmas things. I'm choosing to write about 12 of my favorite Christmas memories over the years.

I will fulfill my meme-ly duties in due time, but for now, Scarlett's tag reminded me of a general Christmas memory post that I put up last year around this time.

Since many of you weren't around then, and since I rather enjoyed rereading it when I looked back, I'm reposting it in its entirety with a touch-up to the photo--which I am submitting for Write From Karen's Photo Contest 5: Holiday Cheer.

Submit your Holiday Cheer photo by 4 p.m. CST on December 14th
for a chance to win a $25 Mastercard Gift Card!

Now let's revisit "Ghost of Christmas Past" from December 17, 2006:

I am a loyal reader of Petite Anglaise, and her December 13 post has been resonating with me for days now. Petite is separated from the father of her young child, and in this entry, she admits struggling to make Christmas special for Tadpole, as she calls her daughter.

If you've read my 100 things about me, you know that my parents were divorced when I was very young. And so, I've been in the shoes of Tadpole--having adults around me trying to make everything seem normal when, it turns out, I suppose it wasn't (whatever "normal" means anyway).

So the more I've thought about Petite and Tadpole, the more I've been thinking about my own childhood Christmases--and the more I've felt the need to write this post.

By Christmases (plural), I mean that we had two every year. If today were 20 years ago, this might have been the morning that I woke up at my Mom's house, opened gifts, and then prepared for our Christmas dinner, which usually included my father and his family.

That's because one or two weeks before the big day, we had "Mom's Christmas," a full celebration only a little early. More than the early gifts, though, the highlight for me was the unveiling of Mom's cookies--chocolate chips, Michigan rocks, ricotta, kolaches, butter pressed, pizzelles. Of course, some time in the weeks before, we had decorated the cut-outs, which involved a couple of my girlfriends and a slumber party.*

Man I'm missing home (and childhood) right about now.

Anyway, some of the reason behind having two Christmases was that my mom is a nurse and always worked Christmas day; on actual Christmas morning, she usually came over to my father's house for a little while.

But I'm sure the bigger reason was that with two full holidays, nobody missed out on a family Christmas experience. In fact, as kids, we were blessed with double the fun.

And the best part was that all of this seemed completely normal to me even though I knew the other kids at school weren't having the same deal (suckers!). Now, as an adult, I see that this was the plan. And it worked.

Don't buy it? My testimonial not enough?

Take Exhibit A, then, depicting what the two Christmas set-up made my normally curmudgeonly grandfather (may he rest in peace) do to himself one year:

See, Christmas miracles do happen.

*These are not the actual recipes my Mom uses. As you can surely understand, these are top secret and under heavy guard. I did, however, try to find some that are close to hers.

thanksgiving in italy

Happy Thanksgiving...

from our table to yours!

This photo was actually taken last year, but it was our Thanksgiving feast and the first time I had prepared one by myself. And it was complicated from the start.

First, we were supposed to have our own turkey, raised by P, but two weeks before Turkey Day, a sly fox got the bright idea to have her own feast early. So we had chicken instead--just as well as my grandmother never made turkey as she didn't like it anyway.


Then, considering many of the traditional Thanksgiving foods aren't even available here, I had to get stuff flown in (think cranberry sauce and sweet potatoes--yes, I know you have them in north and perhaps central Italy but I can't find them down here). Other than that we had filling/stuffing (mom's recipe!), mashed potatoes, gravy, corn, and peas.

Well, *I* had all those things. P didn't go near the sweet potatoes or cranberry sauce. Maybe this year.


We'll be having our Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday since P's working today (and, accordingly, so am I)--remember it's not a holiday here. But I hope all of you have a wonderful day; I'll catch up to you on Sunday!

Thanks for the Thanksgiving funnies Gil!

Today I'm thankful for:

All the Thanksgivings I've spent with my family, both at my mom's and grandmother's house. Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday--it revolves around food and being grateful. How can you go wrong?

And you know what? I don't have even one bad memory from any Thanksgiving, which is pretty impressive considering I come from a family of divorce and otherwise unhappy marriages. Indeed for the most part I had a happy childhood anyway, and for that I'm truly grateful.

And hopefully I'll get to have some more Thanksgivings with my family as the years go on--and P will be forced to try all the foreign foods. Hah!

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone who is celebrating!

5 post meme(nothing like a one-trick pony)

I was tagged by new blogging buddy Goofy Andie (that's the name of her blog, I swear!) to do the following:

1. Post 5 links to 5 of your previously written posts. The posts have to relate to the 5 key words given below (family, friend, yourself, your love, anything you like).
2. Tag 5 other friends to do this meme. Try to tag at least 2 new acquaintances (if not, your current blog buddies will do) so that you get to know them each a little bit better.
3. Don’t forget to read the archived post and leave comments.

I like this meme because it gives me a chance to point out posts that new readers may have missed. I do keep a list of posts that new visitors can read to get to know me better--they're in my sidebar under "Just arrived? Check out some of my favorite posts"--but here are five more, per the meme:

FAMILY:

Big Gifts from Little Ones

This one is from May of this year and talks a bit about my niece and nephew back in the States and all the fun stuff they send me. Check out the label "family" for more family posts.

FRIEND:

Calabrian Women's Summit 2007

First published in March 2007, this post recounts my first meeting with fellow expat blogger in Calabria, Cherrye of My Bella Vita, and Dawn, who we're still hoping finds time to write up one of these blog things. We had an awesome time and recreated the magic in August before Cherrye left us to get married in Texas. I know some of you, like me, are missing Cherrye lately, but she'll be back soon to tell us all about it, I'm sure.

The label "friends" will take you to more friends posts.

YOURSELF:

Sunday Scribblings: Chronicles

I've written many, many posts about me and other than searching the "me me me" label, you can also find a lot of those on my sidebar.

But now I'm going to point you to one that says a little something different about me than any of the memes or lists I've done over the past 11 1/2 months. You might have missed this one as it was first published way back in January, less than two months into my blogging adventure. I hope you enjoy it.

YOUR LOVE:

Helping Hands

Another May post about how P surprises me every now and again. There are lots of P and love posts under the "love" label.

ANYTHING YOU LIKE :

Seeds of Truth

This last one was hard! I didn't know which direction I should go in, but I finally decided on a snippet of my fiction writing since it's a part of me that gets ignored early and often around here.

This May post was my first entry in a fiction writing contest, and I even ended up with a prize; check out other writing related posts under the "writing" label.

Now I'm going to tag 5 bloggers who are all doing NaBloPoMo, some of whom I knew previously and some I've just met. Show us what to read please!

Alyndabear
Candid Karina
Gill
Jill Althouse Wood
Miss Eliza

Today I'm thankful for:

Believe it or not, NaBloPoMo. I've realized through this experience that it's not as difficult as I thought to post something every day--except for internet issues (fixed as of now...yeah!). Getting into the habit of writing, taking more photos, being more creative about posts--these are all good things, and I have NaBloPoMo to thank.

But even more than that, I'm so thankful to have met even more wonderful bloggers through the experience. One can never have too many blogging friends, I say.

apples & thyme:celebrating time in the kitchenwith mothers & grandmothers

When I first read that fellow bloggers at African Vanielje and The Passionate Palate were hosting a tribute to mothers and grandmothers in the kitchen, I knew I’d have to participate.

Like many women who love to cook and bake, I've been taught, guided, and inspired by the women who have come before me, namely my mother and paternal grandmother.

I'm not sure how closely I'm playing by the rules, but here is my entry for:

Let's get one thing straight from the get-go: Everything I’ve learned about cooking and baking, I’ve learned from my mother and grandmother.

First and foremost, I’m talking about recipes, of course. I’ve already featured plenty of the best handed down to me from my mother and/or grandmother (click on the photo to go to the recipe):

Italian Wedding Soup:

The World's Moistest Chocolate Cake:

Breaded Veal Cutlets:

Ham and Cabbage Soup:

Louise's Banana Cake:

But as anyone who has ever dabbled in the kitchen knows, cooking and baking are about more than just recipes. I credit my grandmother and mother with teaching me the basics--what heat to use, how often I need to stir, why garlic should be added after onion. These things came from watching the pros at work.

And truth be told, I never really cooked or baked alongside either of them with any regularity; like many masters, they worked best alone, but every now and again, I helped make gnocchi (forked ‘em to make the grooves), mixed meatballs (loved getting my hands gooey), and measured out ingredients for baking (I always was anal).

But what I did most was watch and learn. It may surprise you to know that I never did much cooking or baking at home; I really only started experimenting and getting a feel for the kitchen after I moved out on my own. But when I needed information, experience, and guidance, some things that had been instilled in me from an early age rose to the surface.

And what really sticks with me, each and every time I step into the kitchen, are two major things that I apparently learned by osmosis as they were never stated.

The first is that you need to have confidence in what you’re doing. If you’re constantly second-guessing, you’ll be too nervous to really get into a groove and to let your tastebuds take over, and that lack of confidence will show in the dish.

I learned to cook by trial and error--and many phone calls to my grandmother and mother even with the recipe in hand, but I always had in my mind the mental picture of the women in my life ruling, absolutely commanding, their kitchens. Somehow that seeped in, and gave me confidence as well.

No, things don’t always come out perfectly, but practice definitely helps, and you can’t be afraid to get in the kitchen, get to work, and get comfortable. It gets easier.

And the second lesson? Make it with love. Everything tastes better when you put your passion, your emotions, your love into whatever you’re making, and this transcends food. No matter what you’re doing, if you do it with enthusiasm, it’ll come out better. No going through the motions here--believe me, you’ll taste it.

Both my grandmother and mother always prepared food the same way no matter who was eating the food--whether it was just themselves or upwards of thirty people. And I could always taste the love.

I am so thankful for the lessons I learned in the kitchen from my grandmother and mother as they have most certainly made me the cook and baker I am today--not the best, not the worst, but definitely someone with a sense of confidence, adventure, and joy in my favorite room of the house. And while we're talking about thankful:

Today I'm thankful for:

The wonderful women in my family, particularly my mother and grandmother, although there are many others. My mother is without a doubt my best friend, and I still go to pick up the phone and call my grandmother every now and again even though she passed away six years ago last month.

The bonds we share with other women are always special, but I've been so lucky to have such precious relationships within my own family; I know not everyone has that, and I am extremely thankful that I have been so blessed.

Reminder:

You still have time to write up your Apples & Thyme tribute (deadline is tomorrow!), so go to African Vanielje or The Passionate Palate for details.

well i love a rainy night,such a beautiful sight

Ciao! I hope everyone had a nice weekend full of Internet connections!

Yes, we lost contact with the outside world (via computer) again on Sunday morning, and it lasted until yesterday evening--and this morning it has been so frustratingly slow to do anything. I'm not even sure if this is going to post when I'm done, but it's worth a shot.

To be clear, I'm not complaining because when I called the Internet provider, they told me it'd be fixed by giovedì mattina--Thursday morning. Look at Telecom coming through early! Miracles do happen!

So what caused the outage? Well, they can blame this:

But in reality, we lost the phone and internet before the *big* storms came--and they were big. Huge. Scary in fact, and they lasted most of the day Sunday and yesterday.

No complaints on the rain either as it's been so very long since we've had a good soaking, although I could do without the lightning and thunder. I think the pooches, though trembling, secretly enjoyed it all because it meant plenty of Mommy Lap time--Luna on the upper half, Stella on the lower as we stared off into the fog, clouds, and rain (no television allowed when there's lightning!).

So, forced to stay inside, we did a little of this:

Which eventually led to this:

Those are pieces of one of our chickens marinated in olive oil, red wine vinegar, and Stubb's Rosemary-Ginger Spice Rub (sent by my mom) and then basted by P using a brush made of his mother's dried oregano. Yum!

Great family and food time aside, I also got *a lot* of other things done--finished all the translations that were piled up, completed another couple writing assignments, wrote a handful of blog posts, and ran a bunch of errands (in between the raindrops of course). I haven't felt so accomplished in weeks!

I love the rain! Especially when it's followed by this:

And, in case you're wondering, now we're back to this:

And how was your weekend?

P.S. Thanks so much for turning the last post into a wonderful discussion! You have no idea how happy it makes me when that happens.

my great-grandmother's village: isca sull'ionio, calabria, italy

Last week, my grandmother's first cousin, Domenica (but don't call her that--she goes by Marie) from America and her childhood friend, Laura, came to visit me. Both of their mothers, as well as my grandmother's mother Concetta, were born in Isca sull'Ionio, or Isca on the Ionian Sea, which is the village next to mine.

Meet Concetta via her 1941 US citizenship certificate:

To explain a bit, my great-grandfather was from the village I now live in, and he married a woman from Isca, and that's where they had their children. So my roots, as well as those of my Marie are actually from both villages. Laura's family is all from Isca.


The connection between this tiny village on the Ionian coast and my area back home in Pennsylvania is extremely strong; indeed, most of the Italian (Calabrian) families in and around my hometown come from this village and share names like Varano, Scicchitano, Bressi, Feudale, Mirarchi, and Nestico (here, it's Nesticò, accent on the last syllable).

One of my most vivid memories of the first time I visited here was my jaw continually dropping at just how many last names I saw on signs and businesses that were so very familiar to me--even the geographical position of Isca is very much like our towns nestled into the Appalachian Mountains.


You can read more about Isca's history and links in the United States on this site, made by a friend of mine that I met via the Internet quite a few years ago. He ended up connecting me with a woman originally from Isca who now lives in South Philly (I also lived in Philly at the time); it turns out that she had also lived up in my area of Pennsylvania...and, as we discovered once we got talking, had even worked with my grandmother in a sewing factory in the 1960s or 70s.

Talk about a small world, huh?

Alida gave me one of the best quotes ever during an email exchange four years ago, and I hope she doesn't mind my sharing it here:

When I was a little girl, before I knew of the rotation of the earth, I really believed that those pretty mountains ate the sun and by a miracle God would send it back the following day.

Don't you just love Italians?

A few years ago, Alida, her family, my mom and I went to the San Marziale festival, organized by Iscatani, in South Philly together.


Now back to our visit to Isca with my cousin. Through genealogical research, I was able to pinpoint the street, although not the exact house, of our family. It's called Via Borgo, and here's Marie in front of the entrance to the smallest "street" I've ever seen in my life:

Here's a look down said street:

As you can see, there's actually a bit of reconstruction going on, but Isca Superiore is still mostly emptied out, even more so than my village; in fact, every time we asked about someone who had formerly lived up there, we were directed to the Marina village. Isca was particularly hard hit by an earthquake in 1947, so that was the impetus for many to get off the hill.

We didn't have too much time to walk around Isca, but here are some old scanned photos of mine from a previous visit:




Then we went back to P's parents' house in Badolato Marina and enjoyed a lovely lunch with them. Here are P's father Salvatore, P's mom Caterina, Marie (eyes closed, sorry--told her to leave on her sunglasses!), and Laura.


Marie had a great time trying to teach P's dad some English words--much laughter ensued as "I looooooove you" repeatedly echoed throughout the Marina. And since I never tire of hearing old family stories, this provided yet another opportunity for Marie to share what she remembers of her grandparents--my great-great-grandparents--and others long gone.

P's mom must've been feeling a bit nostalgic too because she broke out her old photos; I had never seen a baby picture of P before, so that was extra special. What a cutie! You may or may not see said photos scanned here at some point. Good thing he doesn't read the blog, eh?

So after quite a day full of emotion, laughter, great food, and fun, Marie, Laura and I headed back up the mountain to Badolato. As they rested, I got to thinking, as I'm wont to do.

I have always thought of Isca as representing the feminine side of my Italian family, as my great-grandmother and great-great-grandmother were born there--who knows how far back that goes, but I'd sure like to find out. Even the town's name ends in "a" denoting the feminine. I've always had a stronger connection with the women in my family, and so I would've guessed that Isca was the place for me if I were going to settle in Calabria.

But there's so much more to me than that feminine side, and I'd say I'm pretty balanced in my traditionally masculine and feminine influences. I'm not a girly-girl by any means, and you couldn't tear me away from a football, baseball, or basketball game in America if you tried. I can also be awfully aggressive when I want/need to be (do you believe me?).

Interesting, then, that it's my great-great-grandfather who was born in Badolato (note that it ends in an "o" denoting masculine) and relocated to Isca for his wife; I, on the other hand, was first drawn to Isca (my family had never heard of Badolato until I found some citizenship records), but then the pull to Badolato was so strong that I ended up staying here, in the masculine village, if you will.

And here I found my P.

Now I struggle to balance those masculine and feminine influences once again--this time in a culture with fairly distinct gender roles. Southern Italy isn't what you'd call modernized in its ideas about what a woman and a man should do. Lucky for me that I've found a guy who loves that I work and that I actually *want* to go hunting for mushrooms in the mountains, etc., with the boys--and he also happens to be a great cook who occasionally surprises me with his housekeeping abilities.

It's not always easy, of course, but I'm loving the challenge.

an abundance of love

So much love around here these days, I just have to share it.

For the past few days, my grandmother's first cousin from America has been visiting with her childhood friend who also happens to have roots here. This was the first time either of them had visited the birthplace of their mothers, and it was such a pleasure to be able to share my new (to them) Italian life.

Together, we spent time with P and his parents and talked about old family memories, all while looking at old black and white photos that I had never seen (which may explain my recent obsession with the colorless versions of my own pictures)...and also never-before-seen-by-me footage of P as a baby and young lad. Too cute!

I'll be able to share more of our time together as photos become available (I borrowed a digital but not the cable to upload--argh!), so in the meantime, you'll just have to accept some other images of love that I captured recently.

I almost stepped on this heart in the pavement of a nearby agriturismo
(but instead stopped to take a photo).

And there's just nothing like sisterly love.

Happy Love Thursday everyone!