I’m sitting here on the very early Sunday morning, reminiscent of my childhood and reminded by it by Facebook posts sent to me by my Calabrese friends and family.
It’s a good time to wake up here for many reasons. There’s the silence of the countryside where I live. The coyotes are asleep, as are our dogs who protected us last night from any possible harm. Soon the noise from the highway will rise up to shatter the silence.
Here in Gringolandia, as Frida Kahlo’s used to call it, it is 5am. In Calabria it is lunchtime, pranzo. I wake up to numerous Facebook posts informing me of a beautiful and peaceful Sunday.
Don Vittorio Savoia has just sent me a picture of his pranzo. Giulia Torchia reminds me of the fragrance of her foccaccia. Elisabetta Mezzatesta Luca’ sends best wishes to all the Catherines out there as November 25 is the feast day of Santa Caterina d’Alessandria. Giusy Zani wants to chat while I write this blog post. Mimmo Surace brags about his barbecue.
Don Vittorio’s pranzo is a reflection of his Calabrese tradition–simple, nutritious, reflecting our roots as contadini. We Calabresi are not a people of the five-course Italian meal. The five-course meal is a reflection of our northern brothers and sisters, richer and more prosperous than we Calabresi.
Don Vittorio’s pranzo is a big plate of pasta surrounded by meatballs, a chunk of simple bread to the right of his glass, filled with a strong, stout red. The bottle of his homemade wine sits close by, ready to provide more wine. There lies a single fork for we Calabresi are not a people of the exquisite posate of multiple forks and spoons like our northern brothers and sisters. A simple tablecloth, clothed in simple flowers, undergirds the meal. It reminds me of the simple Sunday dress worn by my nonna that I’ve seen in pictures.
Now that I’ve gotten my Calabrese “fix” I do what I always do on a Sunday morning–I’m going back to sleep.
‘BBona duminica a tutti!