Special to The Journal Posted Apr. 19, 2015 @ 12:01 am
Just as the cake was brought to the table and placed alongside a tray of cookies and chocolates, out came the old photographs.
We were at the home of one of my sisters, reminiscing about “the olden days” at Grandma and Grandpa’s for Sunday dinner at noon. Relatives and friends always joined us. One photo of our grandparents with our mother, her two sisters and brother perfectly portrays their Sunday best for church and then home again for a seriously food-filled day.
Meals were always sumptuous. But unlike Easter Sunday, there was no leg of lamb, nor a variety of pies. Instead, we often had roasts, tender veal cutlets, meatballs, and a dish of braciole. Thinly cut rolled steaks, braciole had centers of garlic, parsley, pine nuts, prosciutto, and Parmesan cheese. These were tied with string and cooked for hours in the tomato sauce that would cover the homemade ravioli or lasagna.
As I think of those days, I can see why Grandma and Grandpa had so many Saturday afternoon opera tiffs. When Grandma wasn’t standing in the kitchen cooking, she would sit by the radio and crochet.
But Saturdays were a challenge. Grandpa was hard of hearing and would not wear a hearing aid. So their arguments often had a familiar ring. When he came to arias that he loved, he would turn the volume up loud enough to scare away the seagulls and then start singing along.
“Anthony, turn that down. How can I think and cook at the same time?” Grandma would say.
Finally she would stop stirring the sauce and go to him with her arms waving in the air crying out, “Silenzio!”
He would counter with “Annunziata, appetto un minuto,” meaning that he expected her to wait until the aria ended. He only called her Annunziata when he was very serious about something.
Or he might wave her off with “Nancy, aspetta” at which point she would walk away shaking her head saying, “He never listens.” However, when he called her “Nancy” he was listening — just not immediately.
Gram would say, “I’ll be glad when the warm weather comes. He’ll be out in the garden and I will have some peace and quiet in here.”
Because every Sunday was a feast, for Grandma all the cooking on Friday and Saturday was both her passion and her mission. On Sunday, when people gathered round the table, she would be watching faces for signs of contentment.
Then just as we were about to take the last bite, she was there heaping a second helping onto your plate smiling and saying, “You see, I knew you were still hungry. Grandma always knows. Just save some room for dessert.”
Rita Esposito Watson, also a PsychologyToday.com columnist, is writing “Italian Kisses: Gram’s Wisdom.”
Rita Watson: Remembering Sunday dinner with Grandma and Grandpa
Copyright 2015 Rita Watson