Food is Comfort
Comfort food at its finest.
Many things bring families together, including good times and bad. Last week we had a share of both in our family. One of my aunts passed away last weekend so, sadly, we began our planned holiday gathering with a funeral on Wednesday. Family descended on the funeral home to share our sorrow at the untimely loss of one of our large clan. After the funeral, we followed tradition and celebrated my aunt’s life at a luncheon in an Italian restaurant in the Bronx. The restaurant arranged large tables and seating in a private room that could accommodate all of us, and brought out an amazing procession of satisfying, comforting food.
We started with a light and crisp flatbread pizza, followed by the most delicate fried calamari and eggplant rollatinis. Naturally there was a pasta course with a choice of marinara and cream vodka sauces. 
A perfectly dressed salad was delivered to the tables with the chicken and sausage dish, and the tender veal milanese. It was difficult to stand up after all of that delicious food, but we managed it anyway, in order to circulate around the room and share memories of my aunt.
Although we thought we couldn’t take another bite, the dessert was irresistible. Puff pastry was filled with melted nutella and topped with whipped cream. Why didn’t I ever think of this?
While we enjoyed the wonderful feast that was brought out to feed our bodies, we never lost sight of the reason for our gathering. It was a bittersweet way to find comfort for our hearts during a tough time.
Photo of the Week – 11/25/09 – Meatball Slider, Louisa Style
This wasn't the plan.
One night last week I was in the mood for meatballs. I had some tomato sauce in the freezer, as well as Italian bread. So I served meatballs, broccolini, Italian bread, with a little sauce on the side. Louisa promptly proceeded to make a meatball slider for herself. Maybe this will end up on Applebee’s menu someday.
I Just Don’t Get Kids
Too tart for me.
I was preparing a cranberry sauce yesterday as one of my contributions to my parent’s Thanksgiving dinner. Suddenly, Louisa grabs a few cranberries and stuffs them in her mouth. I had two reactions to her action. First, my entire face pinched in pain at the thought of eating raw cranberries. Second, I told her she didn’t want to do that because they were tart. Silly me, the child that doesn’t like cooked carrots, squash, or bananas likes raw cranberries. Go figure.