Santino & Julia
Passing the torch...
My brother Santino, nephew Franco and their new dog Jada came to visit this weekend.
Santino makes a gravy to die for and promised to show me just how it's done. Which reminds me...
I can't cook for the life of me.
I want to cook...I'm just not so sure I have it in me.
My mother is Sicilian. I was raised by her and and know only her roots. My mother's Aunt Eleanor (my godmother and also my daughter Anna's middle name) was an unbelievable cook and actually tried to show me the ropes shortly before Scott and I married. (She really liked Scott and I don't think she was convinced that I could keep him on personality alone. haha!)
I will never forget standing in the basement of her home in Salem, a beautiful home she owned but that we never saw the upstairs of because she rented it to a police officer and his wife. As a child growing up I never understood the situation and always felt "sorry" that my Great Aunt lived in the basement of the home she owned while others dwelled above her.
As an adult I realize that where she lived, where she laid her head at night had very little to do with her happiness. Her happiness came from nurturing her family and she did this not only by providing sanctuary in the basement of the home she never ventured upstairs in (yet ruled with a strong broom handle strategically thrust at the ceiling) but with her open door policy and her fantastic cooking. As a child I remember walking through the door and before I could even think "I'm hungry," Aunt Eleanor would be at the stove making a meal worthy of Christmas dinner. I have so many wonderful memories of watching her cook and never leaving her home without a full belly, $5 snuck into my hand and feeling genuinely loved.
Anna & Franco w/ Grady & Jada
Cousins holding down the fort.