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 there 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 replaced 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