On this Columbus Day... I started thinking about my Italian heritage. No one ever guesses that I’m Italian (full disclosure- I’m half Italian... the other half is Irish and those genes are strong!). It also doesn’t help that, at first glance... or first attempt at pronunciation... a lot of people think I’m French! But once you know how to pronounce my last name- Persichette isn’t really that hard to say.
I would have to say two of the best things about being Italian are our family traditions and our food! Italian restaurants are still my go-to when thinking of a place to go out to eat. And, in the kitchen, thanks to my grandmother (Nany) the Italian meals I make are delish, if I do say so myself LOL. From meatballs and gravy (yeah, that’s right... I said gravy!) to my Italian- style lentil soup, pasta fagiolI and bean and escarole soup... my kids (& my husband) don’t complain. The only bad thing (and I use the term “bad” loosely)- if you’re watching your weight- is the bread. I love bread. We had bread at almost every meal growing up. My kids love bread. My husband can take it or leave it. I know, crazy! His Polish (etc.) family didn’t have a loaf of Italian bread or semolina bread from Parisi’s (the best bread in Queens) on the dinner table every night like we did. But when I make garlic bread... he doesn’t have a problem digging in!
The other thing about being Italian... is the importance of family. Holidays were- and are- such a huge family event. The preparation, the party, the food, the wine, the fun! Oh- and the hellos and goodbyes. They could literally take a half hour... by the time you give everyone a hug and a kiss. It’s hilarious. Especially when strangers witness the ritual. One time, after my family (mom, siblings and our kids) had just spent a week on vacation at the Jersey Shore- we went out for one last meal before going our separate ways. When we left the restaurant we started the half hour goodbye. Then at the end of the goodbye- we said “See you next week!” Anyone watching would have thought we weren’t going to see each other for a year. We were seeing each other the following week.
I love that I’m Italian and Irish. My kids are Italian, Irish, Polish, English, Dutch, Welsh and Scottish! But, really, we’re American. And proud to be American. Americans who really like Italian food. And Irish soda bread. But I’ll save that for another blog.
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