Years ago, when Mom was alive and cooked so well, Thanksgiving was so festive with its Italian flair, the foods and traditions that were part of her menu stood out to me. Either at my mother's house or grandma's, the menu was the same.
Turkey was part of the holiday and so was Grandma's capon.
Granny didn't like turkey, and I get that from her. I'll eat it but I don't
necessarily go out of my way to order it in a deli, or restaurant. A club
sandwich with thick slices of Swiss cheese is an exception, with the bacon and
toasted layers of bread with tomato.
If there is one thing I need on a holiday, it is my mom's
Italian sausage stuffing, with pine nuts and raisins, it says Thanksgiving in a
very culinary way. It is the only stuffing I eat except for seafood stuffing on
occasion. The wonderful wife makes it for me and it takes me back to Mom and
Dad or Grandma once again.
Of course, nothing says Thanksgiving love like fennel.
"Finocchio", as the Italians call it, is best eaten after dinner, to
settle your stomach for the onslaught of the verbal and physical urging of
"MANGIA!" A little olive oil, salt and good teeth and you are ready!
But look out, you still need to tackle the roasted chestnuts. For years, I
thought Mom and Grandma were being overly religious when I would see a cross cut
into the tops of the chestnuts. Then one day I asked Mom why she did it, and
she told me: it was for every cross she had to bear because of me since the
last Thanksgiving!
Wine with oranges soaked in them, espresso coffee, Italian
cookies and pastries with sugar-coated almond candies that Grandma saved from
the various weddings she went to are all part of the residue left on the table
when it is all eaten, the wine stain in the tablecloths and the laughter died
down.
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