A Portrait of Mom and Me
She died eighteen years ago, but I still think of her every day. I love describing her to my friends in Italy who never had the pleasure of meeting her. Here’s what I say:
Mom on My Wedding Day
Lydia loved a lot. She loved her life with Benny, her family, her house. She was truly a happy person who saw the bright side…..always. She loved to cook, to keep house, to shop, to iron;
Mom and Her Red hat
She loved linens, china, big hats, shoes of every possible description, soft bathrobes, flowers, birds, teacups, driving fast, feeding lots of people, and all things Italian.
Mom & Me in Florida
She had an incredible pantry. There were exotic things in there as well as doubles of every staple. That pantry bailed her out many times when she’d fly in the door a half hour before Benny was due home. I’d stand there beside her looking at this array of cans, bottles, boxes, sacks and wonder what on earth we were going to do. Having a full meal on the table every night was an absolute in our house. Absolute. She’d hum herself a little tune and drag one of those true-red polished finger nails across a few rows of selections and then she’d pause and begin handing me supplies to carry back into the kitchen.
Some onions to start a quick sauce; some canned tomatoes and canned peas to finish it off; some thin spaghetti; some olives to dress up the pathetic half head of lettuce which was all the veggie drawer of the refrigerator had to offer; some chocolate pudding mix (a surefire way to make that guy happy…..worked every single time).
That’s how I learned about the real way to cook. Not the calm, relaxed, organized world of TV cooks, but this world, this real place that had a working mother and father, kids, pets, after-dinner appointments and responsibilities. I learned how to calculate the time each component of the dinner would need to be ready and to work backwards from those totals….to put the milk for the pudding on the first burner, followed by the big pot of water for the pasta. While the sauce was being made and watched, the pasta water would come to a boil. At the same time, since we were already hovering at the stove, the milk would be ready and the pudding could be made and tended to. Before cooking the pasta, we’d abandon the stove for a moment and tend to the table setting. And then, after the lettuce had been shredded, tossed into a bowl and dressed, we’d cook the pasta, arrange the drinks, set out a platter of cold meats as a second course, and put the finishing touches on the table. Presto!
A Wonderful Mom
In hindsight, I think I was being trained as a sous chef…..but there was a lot more than that going on. I was being shown how to nourish a family with grace and love…..and a lot of very, very good food.
Thanks Mom. For Everything.
