Mangia!

"Mangia!" Eat!

My Italian grandmother would begin every meal with this announcement. Being predominantly of Italian heritage, I was raised to believe food feeds the soul. Somebody sick? Whip up a batch of nice soup. Sad? Fix their favorite cake or pie. Special occasion? The possibilities are endless. And the comfort food....

Grandma's annual visits to visit us always meant a trip to the Pike Street Market for some serious food shopping. Fresh meat from the butcher to make meatballs; fresh squid from the fish monger; and to this day the smells in deLaurenti's store fill my head with warm memories of time spent with my mother and grandma, who both passed away many years ago. But my favorite memories are those involving Pasqualina Verde. PV was a short stocky old Italian woman who had a produce stand in the Market. She would light up when she'd see us and would greet my grandma with a kiss on her cheek. The smell of fresh basil in her stand was heavenly. To my entertainment, Pasqalina and my gram would speak in Italian and she would always send us home with a lot more fresh goodies than we paid for.

My grandmother rarely used a written recipe; everything was in her head. One food in particular has become a tradition in my own family, although I have no idea how to spell it. I've never seen it in a cookbook, and my pronounciation of the name may not even be correct. When having guests for dinner I'm often asked to prepare something 'authentic'- not the typical lasagna, spaghetti, pizza, or calimari that have become Americanized over the years. When our kids come over to visit, they always ask me to make this food.

I don't even know if I'm making it right anymore. Because the recipe was never written down, I'm sure it's evolved since my grandmother taught me how to make it. A few years ago my husband and I paid our first ever visit to South Philadelphia, the home of my grandparents and great parents; the birthplace of my mother. As we walked from shop to shop in the open air market, I'd stop in and ask the proprietor if he'd ever heard of this wonderful food that my grandma used to make, but nobody seemed to know what I was talking about. Finally, I went into this butcher shop and asked again. The clerk said he didn't know, but "Louie's been here forever; he probably knows." He went into the back to fetch Louie (who was as old as dirt) and I began my explanation all over again. I was expecting another dead end, but to my surprise and in spite of my poor pronunciation, Louie's face lit up. He said, "yes! It's made with savoy cabbage!" I asked Louie why I couldn't find a recipe for it. He replied that I would never find a recipe for it, and making a gesture by pinching his fingers together and touching his chest he added "because it comes from the heart".

I've since written down my version of the recipe and have taught my own kids how to make it. I don't know how much it compares to my grandmother's, but at least the tradition of making it remains alive and well in our family. It's Italian comfort food at its best; and there's not a piece of pasta or a single tomato in it. In my Anglicized Italian, I call it "aveds".

Facebooking is a community, and I admit it- I am one of THEM. My initial foray into Facebooking came at the behest of my much-younger colleagues. With much encouragement and a few key strokes, I was in. Upon entering this new realm I was amazed at how many of my family and friends were already insiders. As they rolled out the welcome mat, I adapted to this networking cyber-life and my circle of 'friends' quickly grew. I reunited with close to 100 former high school classmates (some of whom are grandparents now- YIKES!), and many current and former co-workers; I am now more in touch with my teen aged and adult nieces and nephews than I ever could have been with my cell phone. I've reconnected with friends who have moved to all parts of the country. I found a bridesmaid from my wedding (31 years later).

Our FB community is inextricably bound by our desire to stay 'connected,' no matter how superficial the link may be. Like a family, we laugh together, cry together, debate with one another, irritate one another, support and encourage each other. We play games, join clubs, support mutual causes, reminisce, and dream. We plan get togethers. We celebrate birthdays. We share photos and laugh at the silly ones. We celebrate our childrens' milestones- and our own.

There are some 'friends' who are and will remain distinctly separated from others. While my FB community is broad, not all friends share the same needs, interests, or values, which can cause a bit of friction at times. For example, some of my FB friends have very religious, conservative, right wing views; while others embrace more liberal perspectives. This country's current economic woes and proposed health care reform have brought forth some rabid debates and political ranting between FB friends where I was their only link. I have FB friends who are gay, and some who are vehemently anti-gay. There are times when intolerance challenges our community. I have one friend- a co-worker- whose FB postings look like something out of a Tourette's essay contest. I've been 'unfriended' by people who have been offended by his coarse language when they've read postings on my page.

I fit in with this group because I appreciate each friend for his/her uniqueness. I don't always have to agree with them, but I feel that my life is better because these people are a part of it. I am a crayon in the box of Facebook colors. If I were to step out of the cyber world and limit myself to just a few friends/crayons, my life would not be the broad spectrum of technicolor that it is with my Facebook community.

What's in MY Wallet?

Much like me, my wallet is a bit "fluffy". It needs to be trimmed down. It's full of other people's business cards, most of which I never look at. A few of those "rewards" cards that seem to be so popular these days. A couple of coffee cards, a Costco card, library card, gift cards (one to a book store, one to a spa), medical insurance card, my Sarah Palin look-alike driver's license (not really!), three photos of my husband and one of each of our kids (none of the photos are recent). From these items one might infer that I have a family (true, although they're older than one might expect, based on the dated photos), have a particular fondness for my husband (that would be correct), that I like to indulge myself (who doesn't?), enjoy reading (love it!), and never pass up a chance for that free latte. The abundance of business cards might indicate that I like to have ready access to resources, which is true, even though I rarely refer to them- but it's nice to know they'll be there when I need them.

From looking at the contents of my wallet, one would never know that I love cooking, gardening, and animals; or that I tend to procrastinate (well, perhaps my overloaded wallet might speak to that, after all).

But perhaps the one item in my wallet that best speaks to my identity is a tattered piece of paper I've carried around for years that says:

Every man's work, whether it be literature, or music or pictures, or architecture, or anything else, is always a portrait of himself.

New Beginning

Today is essentially my first day back in school. I finally was able to access Angel today and am working to get caught up with the rest of the class. I find this online course and blogging stuff quite challenging, but as my blog address says, I'm not flummoxed yet. So here is my first blog as an official EvCC student; I sure hope it works!

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