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ANTOINETTE JACKSON
Unless the weather was bad, with our tummies rumbling, we walked the six blocks to St. Nicholas of Tolentine Catholic Church. All the parish children were expected to attend the 8 o'clock Mass held in the downstairs Chapel. The kids who went to school at St. Nick's had seats assigned in the front pews. We public school kids who attended Catechism sat near the back of the church, where I'm sure one of the nuns noted our attendance. Back then, the Mass was said in Latin. We followed along in our Sunday Missal, which had the Latin on the left page and its English translation on the right hand page. Most of us became quite adept at understanding the liturgy and some of us, to this day, miss the Latin service. To our dismay, out of all the priests on staff, it was Monsignor Fennessy who usually said the Children's Mass. He was about 80 or 90 years old, or at least that's what we all thought at the time. The Monsignor was born in Ireland and had a brogue so thick you could cut it with a knife. When he spoke, he had a way of turning his head, stretching his mouth and roaring his words that made him look like the MGM lion. I found his sermons very difficult to understand but listened attentively just the same. He typically talked about honoring our fathers and mothers and not fighting with our siblings. Each week I promised myself to do better by not fighting with my little brother. But, the resolve usually lasted only until we got home and Johnny started teasing me at the breakfast table. As soon as breakfast was over, Mom and Grandma began preparing for Sunday afternoon dinner. Uncle Gene, Aunt Evelyn, Richard and Genie; Uncle Frank, Aunt Dorothy, and Prudy came to our house every Sunday afternoon. They were some of the happiest times of our lives. Mom's first course was what every Italian home traditionally served on Sunday: pasta with tomato and meat sauce. Some families call it "sauce" or "gravy" or "salsa" or "sugo." Some start cooking six hours ahead of time and others simmer their sauce less than an hour. Depending upon the origin of the sauce, the ingredients vary. In the North they add carrots and celery. In the South, we use onions and garlic. Some regions season with rosemary, some with oregano and some with basil. Others add meatballs, some sausage and some beef, pork or lamb. But no matter how she cooked it, or how good or bad a cook your mother was, you always thought your family's sauce tasted the best. While my mother's recipe was not a secret, I was never comfortable sharing it. I probably felt this way because of my father's first cousin, Tom Luparello. Doc, who was a career Army doctor, loved to tell stories. One of his favorites was about Helen's teacher who wanted his wife's recipe for pasta sauce. Ruth meticulously measured ingredients, then wrote them down and sent the recipe to school with their daughter. At the next parent-teacher meeting Ruth asked Mrs. Smith how the sauce went. The teacher responded, "It did not taste like yours." "Did you follow the recipe," Ruth questioned. "Not exactly," Mrs. Smith answered. "I did not have tomato paste, and so I used catsup. I was out of tomato sauce, so I substituted tomato juice. The market did not have Italian sausage, so I bought regular pork sausage." "And she couldn't understand why it did not taste like Ruth's," Doc, remarked, just in case we missed the point. It's been over four decades since we all gathered around our dining room table on a Sunday afternoon. My cousins and I have scattered throughout the country and get together all too rarely. Some Sundays, I look back to those happy times with a heavy heart. To cheer myself up, I'll go to the pantry and set out cans of tomatoes. That afternoon, I'll play my favorite Italian CD's and cook up a big pot of Mom's tomato-meat sauce. While the sauce is bubbling, sending its comforting aromas throughout my kitchen, and while the tenors sing in the background, I'll be thinking about those wonderful Sundays that began when Daddy awakened Johnny and me for Sunday Mass.
And, I'll wish my brother and my cousins were coming to sit around our dining room table to enjoy Sunday dinner once again. In a large pan, lightly brown onion in olive oil. Add ground beef and brown together. Add chopped plum tomatoes and simmer one minute. Add paste and sauce and simmer one minute more. Add water and seasonings. In a separate pan, brown and drain pork bones. In another separate pan, cover sausage with water and boil ten minutes then drain. Add both meats to the large pan. Simmer uncovered over low heat for one hour, stirring about every ten minutes. (If adding meatballs, after sauce has cooked 30 minutes, add browned meatballs using recipe which appeared in September 20 column.) Add wine and simmer ten minutes more. Remove meat and keep warm in a separate dish to be served as the second course. Drain cooked pasta and return to its pan. Add about one cup of sauce to pasta and mix. Put pasta into a large bowl and the sauce in another before bringing both to the table. Serves six. ! Antoinette Jackson is a Bullard-area resident. You may reach her at Antojxn@aol.com. |
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