Grandma’s dining room had a mahogany racetrack table covered with a crocheted cloth and a bowl of wax fruit.
During the day we ate in the large kitchen where she rolled out her pasta. But on nights and holidays, the dining room doors opened for anyone who happened to stop by.
Our grandparents believed in breaking bread together and savoring Gram’s homemade pasta, a daily staple. At Thanksgiving, the turkey shared a place with her ravioli. The Christmas goose always sat facing her manicotti. The Easter leg of lamb nestled next to her lasagna.
In her dining room, Gram said, we could learn about people and love.
Sitting around the welcome table she helped us perfect the art of reading expressions on people’s faces — listening to the questions they asked or did not ask, and understanding their laughter, snickers and silence.
Our grandmother spent hours preparing meals. After some 12 of us sat and said grace she would run her finger from her lips to her stomach and proclaim: “Four hours cooking and just minutes while it goes from here to there. Eat slowly. Talk. Listen. And tomorrow we will all meet again — God willing.”
Grandpa sat at the head of the table with a giant wooden spoon. If one of the boys began to tease — or if we all got the giggles — he slammed down the spoon while bellowing “Silenzio.” We froze until he broke the silence, reminding us to be grateful. “Now, thank God and your Grandma again for this feast.”
With Thanksgiving and Hanukkah occurring together for the first time in hundreds of years, there will be giving and sharing in many parts of the world. Whether one is celebrating the Festival of Lights or expressing gratitude to the Pilgrims, our nation, those who serve, family and friends — it takes just one room, one table to discover the lessons of relationships.
Gram believed that the table was sacred. No matter how much we may have disagreed with one another, she was convinced that any argument could be settled at her kitchen or dining room table. When she sensed tension, she magically produced a cup of hot demitasse and freshly made biscotti.
“Mangia. Mangia. Try this for me,” she would say. And who would refuse her?
She had the wisdom of psychologists today. Instead of allowing us to dwell on hurt feelings, she helped us to change our mood. Her secret was food. With a kitchen filled with baking breads and pastry treasures, we knew that once she said, “Sit. Eat,” whatever ill feelings may have been brewing within us would simply dissipate at her table of love.
Adapted from Italian Kisses/
Copyright 2013/ Rita Watson/ All Rights Reserved
Rita Watson is an All About You relationship columnist. From November 17, 2013 Rita Watson: Anything could be solved at Grandma’s table | Lifestyle .