THE MAGICAL HOLIDAY

The anticipation of Christmas Eve dinner growing stronger as the day wore on; I started to make my contribution to the evening get together by making shrimp stuffed with crabmeat. This is one of the many recipes that my Grandmother Frances taught my Mother for Christmas Eve dinner. The dinner of the seven fish and the tradition span many generations from Italy to Brooklyn to Bellport to Sayville, NY.

The tradition is that being how Italy is small in size, it relied on fishing for a great source of food, and since Christmas Eve is a meatless day in the old church, fish was prepared for dinner. Coupled with the traditional gathering of family and friends, this becomes a momentous occasion for the year, maybe more anticipated for adults than even Christmas day itself.

It is without a doubt my favorite time of the year. I see most of my family, we laugh and we remember those no longer with us, and we eat and drink. Great times, food, and people, are implanted in our hearts and minds every year as it gets a little bigger, with one or more people join the gathering either as friend or family member, by birth, marriage or new acquaintance.

As I enter my sister’s house, carrying my shrimp creation, I smell the sauce from the lobster cooking slowly on the stove top, the fried breaded eels, resting in the pan, the cod fish (baccala) salad, all dressed in red peppers and green olives, waiting for me as I am greeted by my beautiful sisters, busily working in aprons and chatting as pots and pans sing out their holiday cheer, the pasta pot, boiling and holding court as it sits atop the stove. The air is magical this evening, laughter is in abundance, as I glide through the relatives and friends, hugging and kissing and just glad I am part of it.

I immediately find the bar and help myself to a Jack Daniels Manhattan, but tonight I don’t need one, the family is enough to keep me high for the rest of the evening. I see my 88-year old Mother, as she observes the preparations, making little comments like a coach at a football practice, little nephews cruising about, happily anticipating the arrival of a fat gentleman in the middle of the night. I see my older Nephews and Nieces, some solo, some with fiancé’s, and I wonder if this is the last stop for this wonderful tradition that lasted until my generation.