This Newsletter is dedicated to the fathers in my life. My dad, Vincenzo and my father in law, Luigi and of course, my husband, Andrew.
My father loved to eat and eat well. He lost his mother when he was 8 years old. He was the youngest of three children. He was a prisoner of war in WWII, and was very traumatized from his experiences. One story that was told by my mother was that when he was in battle, he was wearing a St. Michael medal that saved him. When he came home from the war, he met my mother and told her he wanted to start a devotional altar to commemerate St. Michael's feast day, which is September 29th. Every year, my mother turned our living room into a church (no kidding).
White flowers, lots of white flowers. White candles. The altar was made up and covered with satin embroidered cloths just like a church altar would have.
St. Michael be would be right in the center. A week before, my mother and lots of women in the neighborhood would come over at night to say the rosary.
Mom would bake the traditional taralli made with fennel seeds. She would serve the traditional lupini, that she would make herself by soaking the lupini in big jars until they became tender. Recipe on my blog. She would prepare roasted chick peas(salted). It was an open house to anyone who wished to pay their respect to St.Michael.
On the feast day, she would prepare trays of eggplant parmesan, platters of cold cuts for the attendees.
You would assume that my parents were devout Catholics, but Italians were extradinarily devout to their patron saints.
St. Michael's statue was kept on my bureau in my bedroom. Every night, the perpetual candle was there to illuminate the face of Satan being banished. I'm not trying to freak you out. I felt very protected by the statue.