Back in the 50s when I was a little girl, I lived in a big old Victorian house with Mamma, Papa, my two brothers, my aunt and uncle, their eight children including twins born on Christmas, my Nani and Grandpa, and a varying assortment of cousins who served at the Army Base down the road.

Somehow, in the magic way that Italian women have, the house was kept immaculate, white linens and laces (beautifully starched and ironed on the old mangle-iron) adorned a table overflowing with enough food to make even the Godfather take notice.

Everyday dinners were amazing enough, but on Sundays, when most of Nani`s 17 children came over with their enormous broods - well, it was a sight to behold!!!

Nani stood guard over the huge pots of homemade soup and sauce simmering on the stove. Several of the women gathered around a table covered with a large floured white tablecloth. In a flurry of teamwork that any corporate manager of today would envy, they made pounds and pounds of delicate ravioli and tortellini. Even the children got into the act. My brother cranked the handle of the pasta machine as it rolled out sheet after sheet of almost transparent dough. The women would drop spoonfuls of filling onto the dough, cover it with another sheet of dough, then roll the cutting wheel to make ravioli or the senior women would deftly twist the dough to make the tortellini. My job, which as a little girl I took very seriously, was to make the thumbprints in the ravioli!! Only the freshest ricotta and mozzarella was used for our ravioli - mainly because one of our uncles owned the cheese factory.

Actually, every one of our many uncles owned something. The table always groaned with Italian Sausages, Braccioli, Pork Spareribs, Veal Roasts, and Meatballs `cause of our uncle who owned the butcher shop. And desserts were always anything that was left over from the Sunday rush at Uncle Frank`s bakery.

Oh - and what desserts they were!!! The creamiest napoleons and cannoli made with just a touch of whiskey in the dough, and a filling of fresh ricotta, chopped Hershey with almonds and a touch of powdered sugar. Light as air ricotta cakes, and chocolate tortes with hazelnut filling -- ummmmm!!! And, of course, the best bread in town - nice and hot and topped with Nani`s butter made from the cream skimmed off the top of the milk that my uncle brought over from his dairy. (No - she didn`t churn it - she used a Kitchenaid mixer and, later, a blender - I still make my own butter the same way!!!)

In the summer, we`d have wonderful salads made from the fresh greens, tomatoes, onions, and whatever else Grandpa grew in garden - and fresh peaches, figs, and watermelon. In the winter, we`d have produce brought by (you guessed it!)my uncle who owned the produce stand!!! He even had a little fungi (mushroom) tree stump so that Nani could pick over the fresh mushrooms for her soup.

We all ate in shifts at long tables with benches. The kids were always fed first, then sent to the living room to watch Uncle Milty on the television.

These are the fond memories of my father`s side of the family. Next time, I`ll write about my mother`s side.

Ciao!!
Buon Appetit!!!
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