I can’t help myself


If I don’t do something with dough, either bread or pasta, at least once a week, I go nuts! I find such a comfort in kneading dough. I never used a mixer of any type to make dough and I don’t think I ever will use one. Why? When you are kneading you can work out some stress, say a prayer, laugh or just contemplate. Anything really. It’s so therapeutic. I wonder if my grandmother felt the same way when she made dough?

I recently connected with a cousin who is really a third cousin. His grandfather and my grandfather were cousins and they came to America together in 1923. This cousin, John, is closer to the age of my father and he basically grew up in my grandparent’s home. That is how families used to be.  Close in proximity and community. Now we are all spread out far and wide. Since my father passed away in 2004, there really isn’t anyone in my immediate family to be the “paterno famiglia” or father of the family. I miss him and I miss the Sunday family dinners. I think I am going to be one of the ones to re-establish the tradition, to the best of my ability. It might be moved to Saturday but it will be a time to invite family, friends and just eat and enjoy each other.  Something like this:

In this picture are (l to r) my mother, my cousin John’s grandmother, my cousin, my grandmother, my older sister in my father’s arms and my cousin and my grandfather. This was taken in 1963 or 64.

What stands out to me is the white tablecloth and the china. I guess it’s an Italian thing. I need a white linen tablecloth.

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