“Eat the meat!”
I can hear my grandmother’s voice bellowing through the kitchen like it was yesterday. She was famous for her Sunday Italian meals, which she relentlessly provided to an extended family throughout her life.
My grandmother grew up in “The Gut” of our city, where all the Italian immigrants (including her parents) had migrated at the turn of the century. After her mother’s untimely death, she quit school to stay home to help take care of her brothers. Later, she married another Italian, a plumber, and raised a family of 5.
Throughout her unremarkable but fulfilling life, she cooked. You couldn’t walk into my grandmother’s home without eating. Upon entering, her first words were always, “Sit down. I’ll get you some food.” Within minutes, you’d have a bowl of pasta sitting in front of you with her famous sauce, fresh bread, a sausage or two, and plenty of Parmesan cheese. It was her way of showing love.
It was also great to see everyone during those Sunday meals. The cast of characters would change week to week, but the core family was always present. I could always tell when one of my cousins had a serious relationship because that person would be brought along. If they survived the gauntlet of questions and lighthearted needling, we might just accept them into our family. Some of those people I met during those Sunday dinners are still around.
The first serious girlfriend I brought to our Sunday meal was overwhelmed. She was shy, reticent, and intimidated by my loud and boisterous female cousins. Needless to say, that relationship didn’t last. The second serious relationship I put to the test was the woman who would become my wife. Conversely, she jumped right in. If she was needled, she needled back, and she asked just as many questions as she received. But her winning move was doing the dishes after the meal ended.
I don’t remember this scenario actually happening, but there’s a good chance after she did that, one of my aunts leaned over and whispered in my ear, “She’s a keeper, that one,” while gesturing towards my future wife.
As time passed, people died, and lives moved on; those Sunday dinners got smaller and smaller. Being away at college meant I didn’t attend as much either. However, once I moved back to town after graduation, I always made it a point to stop by to see my grandmother. By then, she was quite old and slowing down considerably.
At the later stages of her life, she stopped driving and holed herself up, relying on others to maintain her home and sustenance. She was wary of strangers and often sat behind a curtain near the front window to keep an eye out for sketchy characters.
When I arrived, I would knock on the side door and wait for a reply. I could hear her shuffling across the room and then yelling, “Who is it?” At which point I would reply, “It’s me, grandma.” Without fail, she would dutifully unlock the door and open it, unconcerned that the person she was letting in had gone unnamed.
Upon seeing me, she would smile widely, exposing her missing teeth. I would bend over to give her frail frame a hug and then obediently take a seat at the kitchen table where she would begin her waitering. It would have been hard for her to just sit and talk, so I simply rambled on about my life while she warmed up any leftovers she had stored in the fridge (usually pasta, of course).
Inevitably, soap operas would be playing on the television. Since her world was devoid of much drama, she relied on fictional TV stories to keep her mundane life at bay. I never watched them myself, but I knew the storylines well simply because of the updates she gave me.
It’s been many years since that beautiful, loving woman passed away. I cherish my memories of her, and I’m confident those in my family who remember her feel the same way.
This week’s feature, “Nonnas” starring Vince Vaughn, had the same vibe as those Sunday meals at my grandmother’s, which is probably why it hit a nerve with me.
“Nonnas” is the story of a middle-aged man who is adrift in life. When his mother passes away, he decides to take his inheritance and do something drastic that will rekindle his love for the spirit of his Italian heritage.
Anyone who grew up in a traditional family with immigrant roots will appreciate the underlying point of this film. The delivery doesn’t always suggest high art, but the ingredients are all there, making it heartwarming to the core.
A tasteful “B” for “Nonnas,” now available to stream on Netflix.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at [email protected].
