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Sunday, April 27, 2014

Sunday Funday

Hallelujah! I finally have a coveted Sunday off from work, and I can now enjoy it like a true Italian. As expected, my mom cooks a feast for champions including my siblings and of course, our matriarch, Grandma Soprano. Having a grandparent with that last name, I guess you could say we are the real deal. And whoever thinks Giada De Laurentiis is a true Italian or chef, for that matter, doesn't know a thing about the culture. 'Spe-geyyhht-iii' your ass out of here. Funny enough, my brother likes to cook a Giada recipe for my mom and her reaction is priceless. Once he drops the bomb, quicker than you can say 'motzah-reyll-ah', my mom is retracting all of her compliments. It gets her every time.

How in the hell am I supposed to keep a diet when I am at a Sunday dinner table. Frig, if I don't eat pasta, my grandma thinks I am anorexic. It's an insult if I don't eat everything, and by everything I mean two helpings of each dish. Since I told most of my family about my month long Paleo diet, I feel the pressure to stick to the hellish restrictions. No old school Italian thinks dieting is healthy, in fact, my mom has been telling me all month that I look pale, when in reality my skin hasn't seen sunlight since last summer. Casper the anorexic ghost. On some real talk though, I need a tan, STAT. 

So what's on the menu for Sunday dinners, you ask? Typically there is pasta, some type of protein (for us it is usually chicken, mostly because my family owns a poultry farm) salad and an additional veggie. If I am lucky, it is broccoli rabe. Get it quick, it always goes fast in our house. Our dinners aren't always the most traditional because my mom loves trying new recipes outside of Italian cuisine. Tonight, we had minestrone (an Italian vegetable soup usually made with rice) followed by a pork roast, mashed potatoes, roasted asparagus and locally made sausages. Part of the excitement of coming home on Sunday's is the surprise of what's being served. When my grandma isn't there, anything is fair game, because you best believe Grandma Soprano isn't eating anything outside her nationality. After dinner, espresso is a must at Italian dinners and I am always summoned as a personal barista because I worked at a coffee shop years ago. They don't even have to ask anymore, I will forever be a Dunkin' Donuts employee to them.


Food brings people together, especially Italians. It is a culture that practically revolves around a dinner table. For us, the conversation usually includes embarrassing stories from our past, like the time I screamed for a towel while I was huddled over the toilet hacking my brains out after having the flu, mind you I was about 10 years old. This story never gets old with my family. We also do a lot of catching up with everyone's lives, since most of my siblings and I have moved out of the nest. The seating assignments are usually the same, with my dad at the head of the table with my grandma and mother's seat beside him. Every week, my dad has some story on how he can't comprehend things my generation does, or why there is oil on top of Teddie Peanut Butter. Like my dad always says, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it." Apparently, Skippy Peanut Butter is the only real peanut butter, because that is what he grew up using. "None of this chunky stuff," he says. I always try to snag the seat next to grandma, however, 1. because I love hearing her hilarious translations from American words and 2. it is furthest from the refrigerator so I don't have to fill up the water bottle every 5 minutes. I learned, real quick.

Sunday is a day for food and family, and apparently pets too. The family cat, appropriately named Furry, is like a dinner shark that circles the table crying for anyone to give her some bait. She can be such a feline bitch, because she will meow all night, staring up at you from your seat and when you finally give her some of your precious meal, she won't touch it. It has to be one of the few things she likes and must be small enough for her to eat effortlessly because god forbid she puts some energy into something other than catnip. She can only roam free when grandma isn't there because if not, all hell will break loose. "Ehh, whatsa matta with you?! No animals insides the house, you get the bacteria and that's no good" grandma would yell. And if you ignore Furry, she will jump up into any empty seat and meow until she gets her way. We should start setting a spot just for her because this happens way to often.


No matter the occasion, have it be good or bad, Sunday is a day to unwind and enjoy your family's company, plus some slamming food and of course, vino. As the week comes to an end, nothing is better than a home cooked meal with people you enjoy being around most. Regardless of any diet, this is a day to eat your emotions, which usually means a huge bowl of my favorite, spaghetti. By the way, it's pronounced exactly how it looks, say it with me Giada, SPA-GET-TI.

 Fongul.

4 comments:

  1. I just stumbled across your blog, you are too funny. I am happy to see that I am not the only one annoyed by Giada. I can take about 2 minutes of her show before I start pulling my hair out.

    www.goingupupandaway.blogspot.com

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I am glad another person agrees that Giada is straight cray. Thanks for reading!

      Delete
  2. This post is great! Just what I was looking for! Check out my new shoe collection video and I'd love to follow each other!
    Fiona xoxo

    http://fashionandfiona.blogspot.co.uk/

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I'll follow you ! Make sure to join my site so you can get updates on my new posts :)

      Delete

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