Today I am Italian
In a large frying pan I will cook 2 pounds of ground sirloin,
seasoning it along the way. While that
is cooking I will add into my largest pot the blending of Italian sauces,
spices and herbs. Into the mix will be
chopped tomatoes and a little sugar. As
that simmers, I will chop a large sweet onion and a package of Bella mushrooms;
those will go into a separate frying pan to be sautéed in butter and red wine.
When the sirloin is completely cooked I will drain it off and add
it to the sauce, gently stirring childhood memories, sending them floating
through the house like father’s cigar smoke.
When I am sure the onions have completely cooked, into the pot
they will go, along with the mushrooms and perhaps another splash of wine.
With a final pinch of Oregano and a stir, I’ll set the lid and
reduce the flame to a flicker. There it
will stay as the day sends errant baseballs and heated arguments across
Miller’s field.
The neighborhood will eventually change, friends will move
away, some will marry and start families of their own. We will all learn that father’s cigar smoke
was his downfall, and if we still had the car today, that we drove as a
teenager, it would be worth a small fortune.
The memory of the grandparents speaking Italian in the living
room has also been reduced to a flicker.
Fact is, I can’t remember when it was they passed away. Old photographs sit unnoticed at the back of
bookshelves, and diet plans have replace pasta with spaghetti squash. Miller’s field disappeared as condos went up
but you can still hear heated arguments coming from the balconies.
I will write to an old friend, which I guess, is my way of
holding onto a small bit of yesterday. I
will seal the envelope and let it simmer throughout the day, hoping a little of
the flavor gets through.
La locusta salto via dal gatto
Your Old Pal
Joe Zeppi
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