You Know You're Italian If...

I took advantage of the fact that my daughter was at work and I had nothing planned. After I got up, I felt this unusual wave of ambition, so I re-organized my kitchen and made a place for my daughter's new microwave and my new coffeemaker...someone gave me a Gevalia. Don't know where to move junk to to...so cramped for space. Only bad thing is that I will forget where I put the stuff I moved.
Made a pot of decaf Mocha flavor. Not bad.

I have a small (makes 2 cups) Gevalia coffee maker. I used to get their coffee, it was quite expensive, but good!! The coffemaker came as a gift for buying their coffee. Two cups barely open my eyes in the morning...LOL

Sounds very familiar by proxy - I was married to an Italian. Grandma Tedoni had a thicker mustache than any of her grandsons, our wedding looked like a mob meeting, full of Tedonis, Garegnanis, Rapisardos, etc. The number of the wedding party was 23 so we were a few short.

Mangia, mangia

What a great thread!
Not a drop of Italian blood (sigh), but grew up with a best friend who is 100%, and have a hubby who's half Italian.
How about "Didjya eat?" "You want something to eat?" as soon as you get in the door?
Carlo -- I haven't spoken to my girlfriend or her mom in years, there was an Easter "loaf" that she made on Good Friday that used to drive us nuts because we couldn't nibble at it until the next day. It had some sort of meat, ricotta ("ricot") cheese filling, brushed with egg yolk and baked. Any ideas?

My mother married an Italian after my father died, they were both in their sixties, I am the Primo as the eldest son, my stepbrother, a friend of 40 years steps back. I answer the toast on Christmas Eve, as if I weren't a swamp Yankee Protestant so and so.

I was well into adulthood before I realized that I was an American. Of course, I had been born in America and had lived here all my life but, somehow it never occurred to me that just being a citizen of the United States meant I was an American. Americans were people who ate peanut butter and jelly on mushy white bread that came out of plastic packages. Me: I was Italian.

For me... as I am sure for most second generation Italian American children who grew up in the 40's and 50's, there was a definite distinction drawn between US and THEM. We were Italians,. Everybody else - the Irish, German, Polish, Jewish - they were "MED-E-GANS" ( Slang pronunciation of Americans). There was no animosity involved in that distinction, no prejudice, no hard feelings, just - well- we were sure ours was the better way. For instance, we had a bread man, a coal and ice man, a fruit and vegetable man, a watermelon man, a fish man. We even had a man who sharpened knives and scissors who came right to our homes or at least right out side our homes. They were the many peddlers who plied the Italian neighborhoods. We would wait for their call, their yell, their individual distinctive sound. We knew them all and they knew us. Americans went to the stores for most of their foods - what a waste.

Truly, I pitied their loss. They never knew the pleasure of walking up to find a hot, crisp loaf of Italian bread waiting behind the screen door. And instead of being able to climb up on the back of the peddler's or huckster's truck a couple of times a week just to hitch a ride, most of my "MED-E-GANS" friends had to be satisfied going to the A&P. When it came to food, it always amazed me that my American friends or classmates only ate turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce on Thanksgiving or Christmas. Or rather that they ONLY ate turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce. Now we Italians - we also had turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, and cranberry sauce but - only after we had finished the antipasto, soup, lasagna, meatballs, salad, and whatever else mama thought might be appropriate for that particular holiday. This turkey was usually accompanied by a roast of some kind ( just in case somebody walked in who didn't like the turkey) and was followed by an assortment of fruits, nuts, pastries, cakes and of course homemade cookies. No Holiday was complete without some home baking, none of that store bought stuff for us. This is where you learned to eat a seven course meal between noon and 4 PM, how to handle hot chestnuts and put tangerine wedges in red wine. I truly believe Italians live a romance with food. Speaking of food - Sunday was truly the big day of the food week. This was the day you'd wake up to the smell of garlic and onions frying in olive oil. AS you laid in bed, you could hear the his as tomatoes were dropped into a pan. Sunday we always had gravy ( the "MED-E-GANS" called it sauce) and macaroni ( they called it PASTA). Sunday would not be Sunday without going to mass. Of course, you couldn't eat before mass because you had to fast before receiving communion. But the best part was knowing when we got home we'd find hot meatballs frying, and nothing tastes better than newly fried meatballs and bread dipped into a pot of gravy.

There is another difference between US and THEM. We had gardens, not just flower gardens, but huge gardens where we grew tomatoes, tomatoes and more tomatoes. We ate them cooked them, jarred them. Of course we grew peppers, basil, lettuce and squash. Everybody had a grapevine and a fig tree and in the fall everybody made homemade wine, lots of it. Of course, those gardens thrived so because we also had something else it seemed our American friends didn't have. We had a grandfather! It's not that they didn't have grandfathers, it's just that they didn't live in the same house or the same block.

They visited their grand fathers. We ate with ours, and God forbid we didn't see them at least once a day. I can still remember my grandfather telling me about how he came to America as a young-a man, "on the boat". How the family lived in a rented tenement and took in borders to help make ends meet, how he decided he didn't want his children, five sons, and two daughters, to grow up in that environment. All of this, of course, in his own version of Italian/English which I soon learned to understand quite well.

So , when he saved enough, and he could never figure out how, he bought a house. That served as the family headquarters for the next forty years. I remember how he hated to leave, would rather sit on the back porch and watch his garden grow and when he did leave for some special occasion, he had to return as quickly as possible. After all, "nobody's watching the house". I also remember the holidays when all the relatives would gather at my grandfather's house and there would be tables full of food and homemade wine and music. Women in the kitchen, men in the living room, and kids, kids everywhere. I must have a half million cousins, first, and second, and some who aren't even related, and his fine mustache trimmed, would sit in the middle of it all grinning his mischievous smile, his dark eyes twinkling surveying his domain, proud of his family and how well his children had done. One was a cop, one a fireman, one had his trade and of course there was a rouge. And the girls. they had all married well and had fine healthy children and everyone knew respect.

He had achieved his goal in coming to America and to New Jersey and now his children and thief children were achieving the same goals that were available to them in his great country because they were Americans. When my grandfather died years ago at the age of 76, things began to change, slowly at first, but then uncles and aunts began to cut down on their visits. Family gatherings were fewer and something seemed to be missing, although when we did get together, usually at my mothers house now, I always had the feeling he was there somehow. It was understandable of course. Everyone now had families of thief own and grandchildren of thief own. Today they visit once or twice a year. Today we meet a =weddings and wakes.

Lots of other things have changed too. The old house my grandfather bought is now covered with aluminum siding, although my uncle still lives there and of course my grandfather's garden is gone. The last of the homemade wine has long since been drunk and nobody covers the fig tree in the fall anymore. For a while we would make the rounds on the holidays, visiting family. Now we occasionally visit the cemetery. A lot of them are there, grandparents, uncles, aunts, and even my own father.

The holidays have changed too. The great quantity of food we once consumed without any ill effects is no good for us anymore. Too much starch too much cholesterol, too many calories. And nobody bothers to bake anymore too - busy - and it's easier to buy it now and too much is no good for you. We meet at my house now, at least my family does, but it's not the same.

The differences between US and THEM aren't so easily defined any more and I guess that's good. My grandparents were Italian Italians, my parents were Italian Americans, and I'm and American Italian and my children are American American. Oh I'm an American alright and proud of it, Just as my grandfather would want me to be. We are all Americans now - the Irish, the Germans, Poles, Jews. U.S. citizens all but somehow I still feel a little bit Italian. Call it culture, call it tradition, call it roots, I'm really not sure what it is. All I do know is that my children have been cheated out of a wonderful piece of heritage. They never know my grandfather

You had at least 3 women in the family that only wore Black...........for the rest of their lives!

Someone told my mother once that if her hands got chopped off, she'd never be able to speak again!

You have many relatives named either Joe or Mary, and you have at least one brother named Joe

Yep...my dad, brother, 2 uncles, grandfather and one of my sons named Joe. 6 aunts named Mary.

When you were growing up, you had five cousins all living on the same street

Huge family, most lived within walking distance of each other

If someone in your family grows beyond 6’ 2”, it’s presumed that the mother had an affair

yep, tallest person in family was 6'0

There were more than 28 people in your wedding party

Had 30 in ours.

Your big family gatherings were held in your garage

Backyard and garage

You’ve been hit with a spoon and/or you’ve been hit by a nun

Both...more than once.

For a short time while you were growing up, you wanted to be a priest or a nun

Thought seriously about priesthood.

Only thing is...Im Irish not Italian...lol

Pineapple on Pizza!!! Marone!

Your baptismal name is Luigi! (Hey Luwege!)

You know the words to the Ronzoni song!

Pasquale Caputo's description of an Itlaian football wedding is documented in your wedding pictures.

There is a very popular Easter speciality that I recall that had everything that you mention and that was Easter Pie. There was also an Easter Bread that was made with everything you recall without meat.. Take a look at these..

Easter Country BreadPastry

3 cups all-purpose (plain) flour
3/4 cups softened butter
salt
2 small eggs, lightly beaten

Filling

1 1/4 cups Ricotta or good quality cottage cheese
1/2 pound smoked provola cheese, diced (try scamoraza Sicilian provolone as a substitute)
scant 1/2 pound mozzarella cheese, diced
1 2/3 cups grated Parmesan cheese
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 pound Parma ham or salami, diced
2-3 sprigs parsley, finely chopped
salt and pepper

Glaze

egg, beaten, to brush pastry

We would call this a pie, but it is a kind of pizza in Naples.
Sift the flour on to a pastry board or into a bowl and mix in the butter. Add a pinch of salt and the eggs. Work quickly, just enough to mix the ingredients to a dough. Put aside in a floured bowl and leave, covered, for 30 minutes.
Mix the four cheeses in a bowl, add the eggs, Parma ham or salami, parsley and a pinch of salt and pepper. Put aside.
Divide the dough into two pieces, one slightly larger than the other. Roll both pieces into round sheets - sufficient to cover a 12-inch pie pan. Line the pan with the larger sheet of pastry. Spread with the filling and cover with the remaining sheet of pastry.
Press the edges down firmly. Gather together the remaining ends of the pastry and roll them into a strip, like a thin cord. Press this lightly round the edges. Prick all over with a fork and brush with beaten egg. Bake in a moderate oven (375 degrees F. Mark 4) for about 1 hour, or until the top is golden brown
Serve warm or cold.
In winter, two Italian pork sausages are added to the pie. They are first fried until brown, then skinned, and the meat crumbled and spread over the bottom of the pastry before the rest of the filling is added.

Easter Egg Bread

1 cake yeast
1 C scalded milk
6 C flour
1 small can evaporated milk
1 C warm water
2 tsp. sugar
1 Tbls. butter, melted
2 egg yolks, beaten
3/4 Tbls. salt
5 raw eggs (dyed)

1) Dissolve yeast with sugar in the warm milk. Set aside to rise.
2) Sift flour in deep bowl.
3) Add warm evaporated milk mixed with water and melted butter.
4) Add beaten egg yolks, salt and yeast mixture. Knead very well. Cover and let set in a warm place, away from any drafts. Let dough rise for 2 hours. Roll out on a floured board, divide into portions for braids.
Cover, let stand for 15 minutes.
5) Braid the bread loosely. form a loosely braided ring, leaving spaces for the five colored eggs.
Seal the ends of the ring together and use your fingers to slide the eggs between the braids of dough.
Preheat oven to 350°.
6) Place loaf on a buttered baking sheet and cover loosely with a damp towel.
7) Place loaf in a warm place and let rise until doubled in bulk, about 45 minutes.
8) Brush risen loaf with beaten egg white, sprinkle lightly with extra fine sugar.
Bake in 350° preheated oven for 10 minutes then raise temperature to 375° and bake for an hour, or until golden

Ooooh, yum, it's the Country Bread.
You're the best. :-) Thank you very much! FReegards.

I'm gonna take a chance and ask the forbidden since we have multitudes of Italians on this thread:

PLEASE, PLEASE,PLEASE....I'M BEGGING...SOMEONE GIVE ME MOM'S SPAGETTI SAUCE RECIPE...PLEASE!!!!!!

You had at least 3 women in the family that only wore Black...........for the rest of their lives!

It was kind of a pepetual mourning. These were wonderful little women, under 5', that the younger adults called Black Widows. Someone in the family died, for a couple of them, it was their husbands, and the others it was a parent. They dressed in black for extended periods, usually their entire lives..

I had a maiden aunt that wore only Black her whole life because her intended died on their wedding eve.. Most of these women as with all of the women in my family lived into their 90's and some well over 100. Dear God, I miss them all.. :(

Saw them, every morning to mass and communion, then to the store and then back home doing God knows what for the rest of the day. Women who believed that marriage was death til us part......for both parties.

RexFamilia, what a lovely tribute to beloved traditions.
I found it moving. Nice job. FReegards.

PLEASE, PLEASE,PLEASE....I'M BEGGING...SOMEONE GIVE ME MOM'S SPAGETTI SAUCE RECIPE...PLEASE!!!!!!

Was it the most wonderful red sauce, that took all day to make with a meat base, that you could eat an entire loaf of Italian bread dunking as it was being cooked??

You are a true Rebel, because that request will start an Italian Food Fight..Bwhahahahahahahahah

That recipe differs in every Italian home, even between sisters, aunts and grandmothers.. We had neighbors, sisters no less, that didn't speak for years because one of their kids said the other sisters gravy was better.. Oh my..

This is a pretty good start if you want a really staple old timey Italian recipes.. enjoy!

VEAL/CHICKEN PARMIGIANA

3 lb. veal/chicken cutlets (8 cutlets)(6 chicken boneless skinless)
3 c. Italian seasoned bread crumbs
1 c. flour
1 egg
1 1/2c. milk
1/2c. vegetable oil
1 bell pepper
8 slices Mozzarella cheese
1 can sliced mushrooms (fresh if you have them)
Salt and Pepper
Pasta Sauce (see below)

Preheat oven 350 degrees. Pre-grease 9"X12 " casserole
1) Salt and pepper cutlets.
2) Mix egg and milk together, dip the cutlets into the flour, then the egg mixture and then into seasoned bread crumbs.
3) Fry in oil until browned.
4) In casserole spread a little sauce on bottom. Place cutlets on top with a little sauce. Add mushrooms and two slices of mozzarella cheese on each cutlet.
Top with a slice of bell pepper and cook until hot and bubbly, about 45 minutes at 350 degrees.

These are true greaseball gravys.. rich, garlicy, oregano, bread dippin sauces! Just remember, if you ask any Italian family how to make the real thing, you will get a fight about which way to do it, even if they live under the same roof... Bwhahhahahhahhah

OLD FASHION ITALIAN MEAT SAUCE
This recipe makes plenty of sauce for two meals, so enjoy some with this menu and freeze the remainder for another time. The sauce is great over tortellini, penne or fusilli.

1 tablespoon olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 Tablespoon of dried Parsley
3/4 pound extra-lean ground beef
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
1 28 ounce can Italian plum tomatoes (yes, you may use tomato sauce, but it is different, trust me)
1 16 ounce, or 2, 8-ounce cans tomato paste
1 teaspoon dried basil
1 Tablespoon dried oregano
1/2 teaspoon garlic powder, (sprinkled over while boiling)
1/8 teaspoon dried crushed red pepper (to taste)
Salt and pepper
Freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese

1) Heat oil in heavy, medium size saucepan over medium heat.
2) Add onion and cook until tender, stirring occasionally, about 8 minutes.
3) Add ground beef parsley, and fresh garlic and sauté until meat is no longer pink, breaking up with fork, about 5 minutes.
4) Puree tomatoes with juices in processor. Add to saucepan. Add canned tomato paste, herbs and dried crushed red pepper. Simmer 45 minutes to an hour and a half (until it thickens), stirring occasionally and seasoning sauce by taste, with salt and pepper. Some folks add a tablespoon of sugar, however we do not.
Cook pasta in large pot of boiling salted water until just tender but still firm to bite. Drain well. Place pasta in large bowl. Add enough sauce to coat; stir. Serve, passing cheese separately.
2-4 servings; can be easily doubled or tripled.

Italian Pasta with Bolognese Meat Sauce

This is quite different than southern Italian red sauce, and a traditional northern Italian tomato sauce. Did you know that northern Italians eat more Rice, and Polenta than pasta?

2 Tbls olive oil
1/2 c medium onion, finely diced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 c minced carrot
1/2 c chopped celery
16 oz ground veal, or 8 oz each, lean beef and pork
1 c whole milk
2 x 12 - 14oz cans Italian plum tomatoes, diced, and drained
2 tsp. Salt
1 tsp. fresh ground pepper
1/4 tsp. ground nutmeg
12 oz your favorite pasta, prepared by following package instructions
3 oz freshly ground Parmesan cheese, plus more available for guests tastes
1 tsp. of fresh or 1/2 tsp. dry, parsley (optional)

1) In large heavy saucepan, heat oil; add onion and garlic and sauté until onion is translucent.
2) Add carrot and celery and sauté for about 3 minutes; add meat and cook, stirring constantly with a fork, until meat is crumbly and loses its pink color.
3) Add milk and cook over low heat, stirring frequently, until some of liquid has evaporated, about 3-5 minutes; add remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer, stirring occasionally, until sauce is thick and creamy, about 30-45 minutes.
4) Meanwhile boil pasta, until it begins to stretch when pulled (al dente), quickly drain, and toss immediately into meat mixture, and sprinkle with cheese, and parsley. Toss as you serve each guest.
Makes 4-6 servings