DelBloggolo

Sunday, April 15, 2018

SOUR GRAPES. SWEET MEMORIES!


The tree blooms beautifully, in his memory every year!”

If you ever go on Facebook you will find a page called:

You Know You’re Italian When…

On this happy little page, members talk about their heritage, recipes, and share pictures and there’s some guy who writes jokes with an Italian accent! The above quote was posted recently about fig trees where this member added in the comments that her Nonno (Grandfather) died in 1970, and “The tree blooms beautifully, in his memory every year!”

When I read ‘Fig Tree’, it automatically took me back to Grandpa’s backyard and his grape vines. Gramps was a winemaker, the little old winemaker whose wine was considered almost holy. If I shipped a bottle to the Pope and said, “Drink this your Holiness” he probably would.

Dad had strict rules about carrying that gallon of pure contentment: ‘BE VERY CAREFUL OR YOUR BUTT IS HISTORY.

The wine served was usually in any glass vessel that could hold enough of it to make you happy, from grape jelly glasses to goblets, the joy was in the taste, the hard work it took to produce it and to know that it was Grandpa who did this.

With that terrific wine came terrific vinegar. In later years when Grandma would visit, she would bring some of Grandpa’s vinegar, a vinegar I have never tasted since but I wish I could. It made an ordinary or extraordinary salad go beyond the bounds of happiness and great taste!

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