The Story

THE STORY OF NONNAS……. WHEN WE WERE YOUNG BOYS HERE IN JERSEY, WE ALWAYS LOOKED FORWARD TO OUR LONG DRIVES TO BROOKLYN. EVERY SUNDAY, WE WOULD FIGHT IN THE BACK SEAT OF THE FAMILY CAR (USUALLY A BIG BUICK) UNTIL WE GOT TO THE BRIDGE WHICH MEANT WE WERE MINUTES AWAY FROM NONNA’S HOUSE. NONNA (OR GRANDMA) WAS EVEN LITTLE TO US BACK THEN. WE REMEMBER SHE SPOKE KIND OF FUNNY BUT ALWAYS HAD A WARM HELLO AND A HOT POT OF DELICIOUS SAUCE. WE REMEMBER THE GIANT DINNERS, THESE SUNDAY FEAST WERE AT HER DINING ROOM TABLE, THE GLASSWARE AND SILVER SEEMED OLD, BUT THE FOOD WAS SO FRESH AND PLENTIFUL. FIRST THE BIG BASKET OF HOME MADE BREADS, THE HUGE PLATES OF SALAD AND PASTA, THEN THE MAIN COURSE, THE FOOD JUST KEPT COMING AND COMING. THE MEAL ALWAYS ENDED UP WITH SOME DELICIOUS TRADITIONAL ITALIAN DESSERT FROM PASTICCIERA DOWN THE STREET AND WHEN THE WINE WAS FINISHED, MOM AND DAD WOULD PACK US UP TO LEAVE BUT NOT WITHOUT NONNA PACKING US ENOUGH LEFTOVERS TO LAST TILL THURSDAY. THE TRIP HOME, WE WERE SO FULL WE NEVER MADE IT TO THE BRIDGE AWAKE. WE DON’T REMEMBER EVERYTHING ABOUT NONNA, BUT WE’LL NEVER FORGET HER KISS GOODBYE, HER STORIES OF HER CHILDHOOD IN A BEAUTIFUL LAND FAR AWAY, HER TELLING US TO “BE A GOODA BOYS” AND THE SMELL OF THE SAUCE, OH THE SAUCE. THANK GOODNESS SHE GAVE MOM THE RECIPE SO WE CAN SHARE IT WITH YOU. MANGIA