Family Memories: My Grandma

How do you say "shit" in Italian?

My paternal grandmother, Mary, was Italian. Her parents, Katrina and Giovanni, both came to the States from Northern Italy. My dad remembers Katrina speaking Italian, and cooking, cooking, cooking. He still has the table where she used to roll out her ravioli dough. I don't speak any Italian, although I would like to learn a little. Funny how quickly things can change in a few generations.

My Aunt told me that she was always in the kitchen being taught to cook by her mother and grandmother. 

I didn't learn to cook from my grandma. Although I lived with her for years, I never thought to ask her to teach me. I wish I had. 

I  have a childhood of wonderful memories of her. Her favorite colors were pink and purple. She drove a big white and pink van. She loved brightly colored clothes and jewelry. She loved flowers and did flower arrangements for mass. She would always let us dig gum or candy out of her purse. She loved to watch the Trail Blazers and would curse when the other team made a basket. If I had friends over while she was watching the game, they always giggled, "Your grandma just said shit!"

Speaking of learning Italian, I am presenting an Italian Word of the Day!

So, let's start it off with a colorful word: Merda means shit in Italian.

It is also merda in Portuguese and Spanish. How convenient! 

Now you will know how to say shit in all three languages when you travel to the Mediterranean.

Chi Mangia Bene, Vive Bene!

Ciao,

Sarah

Passion is a virtue.

I always knew my family was a little...different. Now that I am older, I believe that the correct word is passionate.

 

First my dad, Joe. He always needs a project to keep him busy. He planted over 100 tomato plants, in addition to a couple hundred other vegetable plants, this past summer. Most of the large backyard was a garden. My grandpa, also named Joseph, kept a garden in a large area of the yard as well. My dad is only keeping up the tradition.

Each day after putting in long hours at work, he would come home and water all of his wonderful plants. He carefully researches his interests which include herbal remedies, cooking, and of course, gardening. I always thought of my dad as extremely entertaining growing up. My dad liked to quote movies and do impressions of characters, I remember this happening a lot after he watched Austin Powers. He would dance all the time, and make up songs on the spot to sing to us. My mom would sing and dance too. Whenever we found something to complain about,  she would sing "You can't always get what you want." To this day I cannot listen to that song without hearing my mothers voice and thinking about tantrums.

My mom has always enthusiastically decorated our entire house for Halloween, Christmas and Easter, and enforced holiday  traditions along with creating new ones along the way. Each year on Christmas Eve my three siblings and sing a Christmas carol. Our Christmas Eve performances have expanded in recent years to include other art forms, such as improvised haiku poems and drum solos.

Two years ago my mom added a Thanksgiving event that I foresee becoming a new family tradition. She supplied my then 3-year old daughter with toothpicks and raw veggies, and asked her to create a turkey. She did.

Sophie's Veggie Turkey

There is also the now infamous Ducky Derby during our Easter family get-together. One year my mom asked everyone to bring a rubber ducky. We lined them up in the creek, shouted, "On your mark, get set, go!" and released them to see whose duck would make it to the end of the creek first. The tradition has continued and we don't need to remind people to bring a ducky for the Ducky Derby anymore, they just know.

EDIT: I can't believe I almost forgot!!!
Our family tradition for starting the New Year off right - My mom had us run out into the front yard with a purple cabbage, and kick it until it was in pieces.
When I tell people about this, the most common response it, "What's a purple cabbage?" and my jaw still drops every time as I realize, once again, how strange my childhood must seem to everyone else.
We learned to wear boots or at least tennis shoes because a purple cabbage is more similar to a rock than a soccer ball, believe it or not.
It was always fun to come home and see the shredded remains of the purple cabbages that would remain in our front yard everyday for the first week of the new year.
We skipped the tradition this year... I am starting a Polansky petition to bring back the cabbage kicking.

I have learned to appreciate my parents creativity and quirkiness as I have gotten older (as opposed to being extremely embarrassed of them like when I was younger). I am very passionate myself, and I have come to realize that passion is a valuable trait. 


The purpose of this blog is to help me devote more time to two of my passions - writing and cooking. I plan to update with new recipes I have tried, while also adding personal stories on food, family, and whatever else is on my mind. 

Chi mangia bene, vive bene - Those who eat well, live well

Sarah