Today's MOSTLY TRUE SHORT STORY: A Sicilian-American Christmas

F LoBuono

When I was a kid, my very Sicilian family celebrated a very Sicilian-American Christmas. And, that of course, meant family and EATING. My immediate family would spend the Eve alone feasting on the legendary gastronomic phenomenon commonly known as The Feast of the Seven Fishes. A more descriptive label has rarely been found. My father would brave the maddening crowds to do most of the shopping while my mother did all of the cooking - spending hours preparing all of that fresh fish made in the Sicilian tradition. And, all of that effort seemed to disappear in mere minutes. Still, by the time we devoured all of that delicious food and drank all of that hardy red whine, it was the rare Christmas Eve that we had enough energy left to attend midnight mass!

And, then, of course, there was Christmas Day. That meant another culinary adventure at my grandmother's house in Brooklyn. After enduring the massive traffic jams down the West Side Highway and through the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel, we would arrive at my grandmother's place where my aunts, uncles, and cousins, who lived near by, would already be in full voice. That meant LOUD. Sicilian families are not known for their timidity. My parents, sister Joanne, brother Joseph, and I would greet them with equal fervor.

After reconnecting with family, catching up with the latest births, deaths, and affairs of various relatives, we got down to the serious business of eating - again. After all, it was the very reason we were there. Italians in general, and Sicilians in particular, have built their culture around the family unit - and, food. So it was with us. We grew up on what now has been popularized (and, recognized for its healthiness) as The Mediterranean Diet. Simplifying, it means eating a healthy balance of freshly prepared food from ALL food groups. We ate freshly prepared soups, salads, pastas, meat, fish, nuts, fruit, etc.

With the adults at the BIG table in the dinning room and kids at their own version - in the basement, we would spend hours eating, talking, and bonding.

As if a feast of that magnitude wasn't enough, there had to be dessert. Yes, there just had to be. In addition to a number of fresh pies, there were traditional Sicilian favorites like pignoli cookies and cannolis. And, the greatest of them all - struffoli. For the uninformed, they are small balls of fried dough covered in fresh honey and candy sprinkles. My grandmother hand-made them and, to me, they always looked like little barrels. Now, in Sicilian-American households, every woman was an incredible cook but each woman has her own food specialty. For example, NO ONE made eggplant parmigiana like my Aunt Palma. And, NO ONE made struffoli like my grandmother. In the Sicilian dialect, we called them pignolata. Funny, but I've never had a sweet-tooth, so I never liked them. But, my brother who did, LOVED them - so much so that my grandmother had to make 2 batches: one for Joseph and one for the rest of us! It became part of our family mythology.

But, with changing fortune, my immediate family has become smaller and smaller. And, with it's reduction in size has come a loss of much of that tradition. . .

I'm generally not a very nostalgic person. I like to be forward in my thinking. But, I'm not made of stone, either. Besides, our past is, of course, the foundation of what we are today. It cannot, and should not, be denied. With that in mind, I look back with great fondness for the love we had for one another. A love that can never be erased. I suppose that's REALLY what this season is all about - reinforcing the power of love. It is the Reason for the Season.

May you spend your Holidays in the arms of the ones you love most.

PEACE ON EARTH!