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Growing up Italian vs Growing up American

My Mom, didn't enjoy cooking. She could cook, but it was a job to her. My Grandmother on the other hand was exactly like you. Cooking was fun, cooking was a shared experience, everything revolved around cooking and eating. My Grandmother didn't have fancy kitchen gadgets, very basic utensils, no thermometers, no timers, no measuring spoons or cups. No name brand pots and pans nor were they a matched set in any way. She made everything at the kitchen table. The beds were used for drying homemade macaroni. Even the kitchen scraps would get saved in a bucket and every day either my Grandfather or I would go out to the garden, dig a hole and bury the scraps. I swear between the kitchen scraps and the chicken manure, that garden produced some of the best vegetables I've ever seen. They never fussed or worried over anything. Looking back on it now, I realize how smart they were. They lived simply, yet they lived richly. No fancy clothes, neither one ever owned a car or drove, but they were content.
 
I remember my gram's kitchen - the sauce/soup/roasting pot - yeah - heck it went in the oven when needed. The wooden spoon that was so old and well used that it actually wore down. I still have her "measuring cup" - a blue decorated china mug-style cup that holds well over 2 cups. I have her dowel that she used for a rolling pin - grandpa made it and put red handles on it - no bearings - it doesn't roll by the handles - they were for decoration only - you use it dowel style. Everything was made on the kitchen table.

When making pasta - you start with a clean dry table. Pour your flour into a mound; make a well in the center. Crack your eggs into the center - right on the table - sprinkle with salt. Using a fork - you began to scramble the eggs and you slowly worked your way around the flour, incorporating the flour until you had to surrender the fork and use your hands.

Believe it or not - bread was made the same way - mound of flour - pour in the hot water and the yeast cake - sprinkle the sugar (if using) and salt into the ring of flour - add the oil and using your hands you worked the ring of flour into a loaf of dough; covered with a dish towel and let it rise. All on the table.

Macaroni was dried on clean four sack towels over the backs of the chairs.

I don't think gram knew how to use tongs! And I am not insulting her. Giving her tongs would be like giving her chop sticks to cook with. She turned everything with a fork. the big fork and the wooden spoon turned the roasts!

The cast iron skillet - the large enamel roasting pan - the big red pyrex bowl (which I still have) - so many memories.

She had no cutting board and there was no need for anything fancy - the hands did it all.

did you ever read these?

TheFamiliaKitchen a/k/a The Family Kitchen: Being an Italian woman -

TheFamiliaKitchen a/k/a The Family Kitchen: The Old Kitchen Table

TheFamiliaKitchen a/k/a The Family Kitchen: My Familia (Family) Kitchen

if you get a chance - it may bring back more memories
 
Our kitchen growing up was more of a farm kitchen. We didn't have running water but did have the crank type pump on the kitchen sink. We had a cistern, a tin roof on the house that had gutters leading to the cistern to collect water. The well was a good hike down a trail into the woods. Talk about living Little House on the prairie, lol. Yes, we even had an out house until about 1972. Then running water was installed in the house.
We were farmers. Seemed each relative would supply some needed neccesity for survival. One family would raise chickens, another hogs, 1 dairy cows and we grew produce. I being the oldest boy was loaned out year round.
The kitchen was always busy with besides the cooking, the canning and preserving. It wasn't the kitchen of stay the hell out of my way. Everything was done at the table too.
Our kitchen had a smell of tomatoes that you could smell before you even walked into the front door. Durring canning season My memory recalls smelling those tomatoes being blanched from the school bus a good half mile from home, lol. It's one of my favorite smells.
Holiday meals when I was very young will always stay in my memory. The men would spend the morning hunting and what was bagged was what was for dinner. Most holidays I was a plucker.
Most of the meat consumed was family provided. My grandmother would waste nothing. Specially when it came from a hog. Any part of that animal that wasn't used as a traditional cut was put into her big pot and became head cheese. Organs, the brains, you name it. I could never eat it once understanding how it was made. Our head cheese didn't look anything like what you would find in the delis now. It was grey, like a meatloaf, maybe due to the brain matter that went into it I always thought. We had a door off the kitchen that went down into a cellar that was actually built with stacking stones for the walls. I guess it could have been refrenced to a cold cellar. It was always full of potatoes, onions, apples, pears, beets. Jars and jars of canned vegetables, juices, fruits like peaches, jams and jellies and every type of delicious pickle imaginable.. It was like walking into a country store.
All the canning was done in a water bath. No pressure cookers or the like. Tomato and grape juice was done in the tall juice jars. No one ever got sick or poisoned.
We had one field that we devoted to growing Glads. Gladiolas.Flowers, lol. My job as a young child was to stand out there on a Sunday morning and elderely woman and such would drive up and I'd walk them through the field and cut their selections for them. We seemed to supply the churches with flowers for the alters too. After the Glads were cut it was back to the house and tea and gossip with my grandmother. Us men, lol, hung outside to shoot the breeze which was much different than gossip, lol. We had a very big circular drive way and it usually filled up pretty quick on those week ends.
Things sure have changed. I miss that life.
 
We were farmers.

Mom would have to catch the chicken for dinner and hold its head over the sink while slitting the throat to turn it upside down and drain the blood out. Then it was plunged into the big pot of boiling water and the feathers were pulled.

My one great uncle raised pigeons - for the eggs and to eat.

If you didn't farm - you didn't eat.

All canning was water bath - and you're right - no one ever got sick.

We had the "root cellar" for the veggies and fruits and we had the shelves in the cellar loaded with jars of homemade goodies - fruits, veggies, pickles, jams, jellies - you name it.

And when it came to tomatoes! OMG - the whole neighborhood was canning tomatoes.

In Italy my family had big farms -here - the backyards were gardens and any available empty lots in the neighborhood were also farmed.

My great gram never wasted a part of the pig - yes - the famous head cheese was made. And no I cannot eat it.

That woman had so many kids that she had to have 2 houses next to each other for them to live. She'd have to cook a batch of sucklings for everyone. And she made her own lard.

Nothing like homemade lard!

The men in the family were up before dawn and in the gardens daily. Then they went to work in the plants and steel mills (my great grandpa fell in a vat of steel and burned to death at the steel mill) and put in long days. And at night - it was back in the gardens to make sure all was well. That was their food source.

There were no big supermarkets. And mom and pop stores only had what the neighborhood would buy. And if you needed to buy tomato sauce, tomato paste or tomato puree - well shame on you for not canning enough to begin with!

You would smell the homemade bread baking in the neigborhood, the sauce being made, and the wines as well. Our neighborhood always smelled so good.

All the babies were "titty" babies. They were nursed until they were 3 years old. They'd be outside playing and when they wanted "nee nee" they would crawl up on a lap and get it. It wasn't uncommon for mothers to allow other babies to help themselves. They whip one out on the porch while tatting or sewing and take time for little ones to feed and they they'd put it away. No one ever thought anything about it.

A woman's work was never done and they never complained.

I would give aything to go back to those days.
 
I couldn't resist a bit of humor, I think it is some what clean.

Sophie just got married, and being a traditional Italian was still a virgin. On her wedding night, staying at her mother's house, she was nervous. But mother reassured her.
"Don't worry, Sophie. Luca's a good man. Go upstairs, and he'll take care of you."
So up she went. When she got upstairs, Luca took off his shirt and exposed his hairy chest. Sophie ran downstairs to her mother and says, "Mama, Mama, Luca's got a big hairy chest."
"Don't worry, Sophie", says the mother, "All good men have hairy chests. Go upstairs. He'll take good care of you."
So, up she went again. When she got up in the bedroom, Luca took off his pants exposing his hairy legs. Again Sophie ran downstairs to her mother. "Mama, Mama, Luca took off his pants, and he's got hairy legs!"
"Don't worry. All good men have hairy legs. Luca's a good man. Go upstairs, and he'll take good care of you."
So, up she went again. When she got up there, Luca took off his socks, and on his left foot he was missing three toes. When Sophie saw this, she ran downstairs.
"Mama, Mama, Luca's got a foot and a half!"
"Stay here and stir the pasta", says the mother. "This is a job for Mama!
 
The Ironic Chef said:
I couldn't resist a bit of humor, I think it is some what clean.

Sophie just got married, and being a traditional Italian was still a virgin. On her wedding night, staying at her mother's house, she was nervous. But mother reassured her.
"Don't worry, Sophie. Luca's a good man. Go upstairs, and he'll take care of you."
So up she went. When she got upstairs, Luca took off his shirt and exposed his hairy chest. Sophie ran downstairs to her mother and says, "Mama, Mama, Luca's got a big hairy chest."
"Don't worry, Sophie", says the mother, "All good men have hairy chests. Go upstairs. He'll take good care of you."
So, up she went again. When she got up in the bedroom, Luca took off his pants exposing his hairy legs. Again Sophie ran downstairs to her mother. "Mama, Mama, Luca took off his pants, and he's got hairy legs!"
"Don't worry. All good men have hairy legs. Luca's a good man. Go upstairs, and he'll take good care of you."
So, up she went again. When she got up there, Luca took off his socks, and on his left foot he was missing three toes. When Sophie saw this, she ran downstairs.
"Mama, Mama, Luca's got a foot and a half!"
"Stay here and stir the pasta", says the mother. "This is a job for Mama!
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And the best thing about Italians is their crazy sence of humor :D What a terrific heritage! Oh and by the way we had Lasagna for dinner tonight THANKS GUYS!!!
 
I was actually born Scottish. You do know that Scottish cooking consist only of boiling potatoes. The same as the Irish cooking I guess. I was always told that the Scots are noted for only two things. They invented Golf and Scotch Whiskey. After which they have not hit a lick since. Does anyone know what the word "Golf" actually means?
 
well - there s an old saying - "Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden" which is an acronym for golf

back in medieval times KOLF or KOLVE was an old Dutch word for club and the Scots dialect transformed it to "golve," "gowl" or "gouf" eventually becoming golf sometime in the 1500's

I like the acronym (although someone made that one up)
 
Mama Mangia said:
well - there s an old saying - "Gentlemen Only, Ladies Forbidden" which is an acronym for golf

back in medieval times KOLF or KOLVE was an old Dutch word for club and the Scots dialect transformed it to "golve," "gowl" or "gouf" eventually becoming golf sometime in the 1500's

I like the acronym (although someone made that one up)
Click to expand...

You are a reservor of wisdom Mama. And I always thought the "Gentlemen Only" was for real which would make the WPGA a contradiction in terms.
 
I'm an inquisitive soul - I love researching and learning all kinds of things - I've always been that way - I got tons of stuff to share
 
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