You know it’s summer when you open your door and someone has left a beautiful zucchini on your doorstep. You feel so special, until you look at your neighbor’s doorstep and see zucchini there too. Your neighborhood is probably filthy with them because everyone always underestimates the number of zucchini that comes from one plant. My father did his entire life. Estimates are, one plant gives three to…
My kids were gone for a mini-family reunion at their dad’s house for the Fourth of July and I missed them, so I wanted to cook something wonderful when they returned. It was Sunday and my Italian soul longed for lasagne. It was just special enough that my devious plan, to get them (including my daughter’s boyfriend) to stay for a meal, worked. Now that’s success. (See what…
My first tiny inkling of discrimination came when a friend’s dad said to me, “You know, your dad is the only Italian I ever liked.” I was a teenager and it left me confused. On one hand I was proud that he liked my dad, on the other, I felt bad that he felt that way. That was the first time I wondered, Was it bad to be…
I just read an article in the LA Times about an Austrian chef who re-creates Christmas dinners like those in his homeland because he has such great memories. I loved that, instead of sinking into a depression over what he’s missing, he’s re-creating it with braised duck and roasted chestnuts. I remember forcing myself to do that the first year I spent Christmas Eve away from my large,…
I was on the phone with my sister-in-law yesterday talking about Thanksgiving and what keeps families together over the years. I think witchcraft might be involved. We were lured in like Italian Hansels and Gretels by wonderful ravioli and slow-cooked sauce on Sundays. My mom acted innocent,while enticing us to sit together with delicious meals every night, where the chuck roast or turkey was so tender it fell from…
My brothers were smart, they knew not to bring girls they dated home. The few times they did, Mom would be nice, unless the girl happened to touch them. Holding hands, snuggling, or showing any kind of affection meant she was a puttana and would never do for her sons. She never remembered names, only referring to them as, “datta gal,” as in, “Tella datta gal to eatta…
I can’t believe it’s already November. To make it worse, everywhere I look poor Thanksgiving is being squeezed out by all the holiday stuff. What the hell? It’s too bad because a day devoted to being thankful that includes food overload is my kind of holiday. I’ve always loved it — so much, that in college, we made Thanksgiving dinner and ate on two mattresses on the floor…
I love you guys — for reading these posts, responding and telling me how much you enjoy my stories and recipes. You’re all awesome and, if I had the time and the money, I’d bake biscotti for every one of you. I can’t do that, but I can give you a gift from GettaSommaDis, my new online store! Go check it out right now! Here’s a link: http://www.zazzle.com/gettasommadis*…
I’m a week behind on my blog because I’ve been working like a maniac on my new internet store. It’s going live this week (if the computer gods are with me) and I can’t wait to share it with you guys! There’s some fun stuff, so don’t do all your holiday shopping yet. I’ve been cooking this week and have a couple recipes to share. Remember a few…
How sad that today’s kids will never know the thrill of waiting until the sixth time their mother screams their name to actually get moving, then blame it on not being able to hear her. Cell phones have taken the excitement away. Thank God batteries still die, so there’s hope for today’s youth. But nothing can replace the way parents used to have to muscle their kids…