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December 06, 2001

Antipasto and a movie

Tracy's class was cancelled tonight (after she already went all the way there), so she came home early. She was cranky and hungry, so I knew something had to be done. We called the local Italian restaurant and ordered subs. By the time I got back from picking them up, she was in front of the tv and The Godfather II was on... Between the antipasto and the movie, I ended up pretty homesick.

Although I recognize that it's homesickness, I also realize there's nothing I can do about it. I'm more homesick for a time rather than a place. I've been through this before. I've been back to Rhode Island many times - but when I go, I feel out of place (actually it's more "out of time") and it doesn't cure the ache and the longing. It's just not the same.

The littlest thing can touch off this feeling. I've had it strike me in the grocery store, while reading a magazine, while eating certain foods, and even when looking at the walls of a room. There are so many things I miss that I will never have again. Perhaps it is my youth I miss...perhaps it is my childhood that I'm trying to recapture.

One of the things I miss is woodwork. (Could it get any stranger?) The woodwork of modern homes really sucks or is non-existent. I miss the thick moulded frames around the doors with the little squares in the corner (with the circles inside) which framed every room in just about every place I lived in Rhode Island. I miss the chair rail around the kitchen with the wooden slats from about waist-high to the floor. I went to an exhibit in the Smithsonian which displayed a "50's era Italian-American home"... I wanted to walk right through the glass and stay there forever. It's exactly what I'm trying to describe.

I miss the foods of my past. It just really wouldn't be practical for me to try and duplicate them. It would probably miss the mark (I'm out of practice) and I would be the only one eating it anyway. Tracy appreciates good Italian food...but the Italian food of restaurants...not of the table. I miss making a big sauce on Sunday. A small piece of pork, a small piece of beef and an onion in a thin pool of oil. Lightly browned and then drowned in two large Bell jars of tomatoes (picked from my grandfather's garden and "put up") with a can of tomato paste. One or two leaves of basil. Mix, roll and brown the meatballs and then toss them in with a few links of Italian sausage and a stick of pepperoni cut into 4" pieces. Cook for about 6 hours. We always got three meals out of that pot (and quite a few meatball/sausage sandwiches for lunch). It's been years since I made meatballs from scratch. Ground beef...one egg for each pound...salt, pepper, parsley...a large mound of cracker crumbs (ground between sheets of wax with a rolling pin)...and a smaller mound of grated cheese. Mix with your hands and then roll into balls using a little water to wet your hands and keep the meat from sticking to them.

I miss many things from my grandfather's garden. We had three types of lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, basil, corn, squash, peppers, eggplant...two pear trees, a peach tree and grape vines which produced both white and concord grapes. All of these things were preserved and lasted year long. I remember vanilla ice cream with our choice of "canned" (by my grandma) peaches or pears to top it. It's been years since I've tasted grape jelly. There's no way it would ever taste like the jelly I know, so why bother? The fun part was "opening" a new jar of jelly and breaking the wax on the top. My experience with frozen vegetables was that you pick them, blanch them, and then put them in bags in the freezer. There was always a bag of vegetables in the freezer. There was always a can of tomatoes on the shelf downstairs (in the root cellar). And there was always fried squash flowers. They're bright orange (and very beautiful). You pick them, wash them, dip them in batter and fry them. They were my favorite and my grandma used to make some up in the spring and save them in the freezer for whenever I would visit.

I miss my grandmother's pizza. She would make it from scratch and when it was done, she would cut it with her special "food scissors." I remember when I "lost" my grandmother. It was during a visit when she made her last pizza. They always came out so picture perfect. She would say, "well, Lori, after over 40 years of cooking, I better get it right." She was always so practical and always looked on the bright side of things. Her glass was always half full. But that particular day she made her last pizza. She was only cooking occassionally and my visit was a special occassion. The thing I noticed the minute I looked at it - the tomato sauce didn't cover the pizza just right. It always went all the way to the crust and "defined" the crust. The crust was always even all the way around. This had an odd shape to it. It still tasted good and I ate it. But I cried inside knowing that the grandma I knew was slipping away. I suspect she knew it too. She just wasn't the same once she stopped cooking. Just like my grandfather wasn't the same when he couldn't work on things anymore. He was a carpenter all his life. In retirement, he constantly kept busy...building dog houses...putting in a new countertop here and there...fixing a stair or two... and taking care of his garden. Once he lost the ability to have his garden, the grandpa I knew disappeared.

I miss multi-family dwellings. In Rhode Island, you find them everywhere. I'm not talking about apartment buildings or condos. I'm talking about two-family and three-family houses. With porches in the front that have large white rails. I miss having a basement. I miss my grandparent's root cellar - and wonder if anyone else will ever know what I'm talking about. It was a small sub-basement. It had a floor of beach sand and very thick walls...lined with shelves. The one at my grandparent's house had vestiges of a wine press next to it. You could tell time by the amount of jars in the cellar. If it was full, the month is September. If it was nearly empty, you're in the month of June - and you better eat up the last of it, so there's room for the new jars. It was always cool in there - and that was before air conditioning was invented.

Most kids grow up knowing about the ice cream truck that roams the neighborhood on hot summer days. We had an ice cream truck. But we also had the peddler who made the same rounds. The mothers and grandmothers would grab their purses and run out like children when they heard the peddler. The one by my grandma's house would yell, "5 pounds for a dollar, peaches...Rhode Island tomatoes" over and over. The one by our house would say something like "peaches, pears, tomatoes" but it was in a really strange droning voice that sounded like "beepeedeebeepeedeepeeb." When I was really young, there was also another peddler called "Jack the Ragman" who sold rags. I don't know who bought them (or why)...but I remember seeing him. I don't remember when he stopped making the rounds, but it was before I hit my teens.

I miss Gallo red wine in the large green jug, expresso with Anisette and Philippo Berio olive oil. Tracy's in recovery, so it wouldn't be a wise idea to have a jug of wine sitting by my chair at the dinner table. And if I had one of those jugs, I'd be the only one drinking it - it's no fun drinking alone and it would only torture Tracy. She hates the smell and taste of black licorice, so it wouldn't be a problem to have a bottle of Anisette around...but again, I'd be the only one drinking it, and it's supposed to be a social endeavor. The oil...well, I'd have to cook twice - once with olive oil and again with vegetable oil. I know Spencer won't eat anything with olive oil and Tracy has to be in the mood for it.

I miss the pies of Easter. I miss the rice pie...the cheese pie...and the meat pie. I miss the people in my family arguing over whether it's called a gadishone or pizzagaina... I miss pasta with chick peas, pasta with peas, and spaghetti in oil. I miss the fish-oriented Christmas eve meal at my aunt and uncle's house - even though I would only eat the spaghetti, baccala soup, and eel. I miss artichokes - even though I have some in the fridge...I'm having a hard time getting the motivation to cook them. I miss my mother's multi-course Christmas dinner -- especially her antipasto with the tuna in the middle and the thin ham on the side with a tangerine slice garnish. Antipasto... chicken soup with escarole and little meatballs... cavatelli and manicotti with meatballs, sausage, pepperoni, etc.... rock cornish hens with wild rice and potatoes (affectionately known as "the fucking little chickens")... expresso with anisette and something from an old green bottle that looked (and acted) like prune juice... fruit and nuts...all different kind of cookies and pastry... and spumoni...

Tracy can't believe that I'm not a big fan of the Godfather movies. She knows every line by heart. I felt like I was watching my sister's wedding video. Tracy and Spencer went with me to my sister's second wedding. They held it in a restaurant on "The Hill." We were in the hallway by the bathroom when Tracy noticed a sign over the stairs...it said "Members Only." She wanted to know what went on up there... I told her, "No, you *don't* want to know what goes on up there."

And all this from an antipasto and a movie. No wonder I'm not a fan of the Godfather movies. All I have to do is watch one and I'll gain 20 pounds! And I get homesick. Very homesick. And I want my grandma and grandpa back (both now deceased). And I want my mom and stepdad to be back together - back when they were happy together. Back when I was gobbling down rice with tomato sauce before my next softball game. Back when my brother was Spencer's age or younger... and my sister and I shared things and had so much more in common. Back when I was a kid waiting for Christmas and the chemistry set that I asked Santa for in a letter.

But that's gone now. I'm an adult. I have to be responsible. I've had my turn at a children's Christmas. And I've traded my youth for adult love and "adult pleasures." Now it's my turn to stuff the stockings. At least there's still spumoni.......

Posted by BlueWolf on December 6, 2001 04:50 PM