Gaelic and Garlic

   

“Buon cibo, buon vino, buoni amici.”

″(Good food, good wine, good friends.)”

—Italian proverb

Anyone who knows me, or has spent more than five minutes with me knows that I am, through and through, an Irish girl. These green eyes, red hair, and, of course, the attitude are straight outta Dublin. To be honest, it’s a random genetic lottery; I was lucky enough to be born into an Irish family. Growing up, however, it seemed my closest friends were always Italian. Now, of course, we shouldn’t label people solely on their ethnicity, it’s not about that. It’s just that in my own personal experience, I’ve had the good fortune to have friends, who, according to their family traditions, were practically required to invite hordes of people over for mass quantities of food. I truly had the best of both worlds: Gaelic and garlic.

In high school, my best girlfriend, Lisa, came from an Italian family, and I got to spend so many Sundays at her Nonna’s house. Meatballs, pasta, salad, baked chicken in olive oil, baccala, pizzelle cookies, cannoli, and so many other dishes I can’t spell or pronounce were waiting on her grandmother’s table every Sunday. While I may not have been an expert in pronouncing them, I sure could eat. But more than the food, it was about the welcome I received from Nonna Capellotti, Uncle Guido, Auntie Anna, Uncle Fonzo, and Gino. Those were precious days of family, food and, yes, maybe a little wine too.

Not Nonna Capellotti. Stock Image

Fast forward to now, and yes, Lisa is still around, as is Gino (It must be said here how much I love and admire Gino. He pushed my buttons on a regular basis, but I always knew that even if I was some Irish banshee his daughter befriended, I was always welcome in his home)  but sadly, her Nonna and others have passed on. Still, I think it was my experience with her family when I was growing up that led me to always appreciate Italian food and customs and the gift of being welcomed at a traditional Italian Sunday dinner. 

When I met Teresa, a local restaurant owner, not only did I enjoy her cooking, but her understanding of the concept of food, friends, and family was exactly what I’d grown up with. When she said she was hosting a cooking class at Essex Tech, and needed some kitchen help, I was SO IN. Being Irish, my culinary background is mostly about boiling meat and cooking potatoes. We Irish are known for many things; delicious food is not one of them. My role in this adventure was to fetch, carry, wipe, wash, chop, and chew. Does it get any better than that?

A full-on professional kitchen with everything you could ever need, along with a talented Italian chef and a class full of people who wanted to learn about Southern Italian cuisine. Sign me up! So, on an early Saturday morning, I showed up to the culinary room at Essex Tech, ready to go. The next four hours were a blur of running around finding bowls, utensils, and other items. I stirred, chopped, wiped, whipped, and did everything I was told. Now, usually taking orders is not my forte, but if you want to learn something, you start by listening. Teresa Sirianno grew up learning how to cook by watching. Family recipes were passed down to her because she listened, she learned, and she watched. For hours over the stove, she paid attention and now brings that love of food, family, and friendship to her work at two local businesses.  

She started with Café Avellino in Swampscott, serving small plates of lasagna, pasta, and meatballs. Her other business, La Sirena, in Marblehead, is all about pastry, sandwiches, and deliciously smooth cappuccino. Sunday brunch at La Sirena will often find families chilling out to smooth jazz, while weekends at Café Avellino are all about local musicians, a delicious menu, and a welcoming vibe.

The cooking class was amazing. Not only I did not set anything on fire, slice off a finger, or poison anyone, I also didn’t break any dishes or dent any pans. The student chefs that turned up to learn were already miles ahead of me, but they too left at the end of the day knowing more than they did before. Isn’t that something? It’s a poor day that you don’t learn something new, and these chefs proved that and while they might have been there to learn, they also taught me about taking a risk (serving a dish you’ve never made before is a considerable risk, if you’re someone like me) and making it a positive experience.

I’m so grateful to have spent a morning learning from Teresa and her students. Essex Tech is an excellent local resource. If you can, take the time to hit up Café Avellino or La Sirena, but if you really want to learn about food, check out the adult education offerings at Essex. We are so lucky to have a wealth of places to not only eat good food but also learn how to make it. Check it out. Buon Appetito!

For information: Essex Tech’s Nighthawks Adult Education program, https://essex-adulted.coursestorm.com/browse; 

Café Avellino, https://facebook.com/pages/Cafe-Avellino/1480174042214853; 

La Sirena, https://facebook.com/LaSirenaCafeMarblehead.

Taking Time Out

“Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes, including you.”

—Anne Lamott

As a parent, there have been more than a few timeouts in my world. With each child, the location may have changed, but the goal was the same. Whenever any of my kids were losing the plot, they were banished. For their own safety and also for my sanity, each one of my children has spent some time in timeout. In just two days, my youngest turns 18. Where is my trophy? Where is the finish line? Where is my shiny medal, my kudos, my recognition?

Oh, wait.

That doesn’t happen in parenting. Why not? Because if you have kids, you are never done. There is no finish line. Which is fine, whatever, but if you’re going to make it through the roller coaster that is parenthood, you’re going to need to take a break now and then. Trust me on this. Just recently, I was in a time management crisis. I had the paid gig to manage, and hey, I like getting paid. Some parenting issues needed to be dealt with because when you have kids, a day without drama is like a day without oxygen; you’re always gasping, sighing or otherwise writhing around incoherently. It’s a given; if you’re a parent who has never experienced this? Just wait. It will happen.

Recently I was knee-deep in the marketing work while also desperately searching for a column topic, and, as always, trying not to be officially deemed the “Worst Mother Ever.” It’s a never-ending struggle for me, but on this particular day, my limit had been reached. There were no more words, no more marketing strategy; I was just at capacity. We all have that line, where, once it’s crossed, we lose it. While there is no scientific evidence of it (and I spent five years as a science journalist, so I know this), it’s definitely possible for a mom’s head to explode. Ask any mother, they’ll tell you.

The words, which are how I pay the bills, were not coming. No ideas, no inspiration, nothing. My answer to this was unconventional but ultimately successful. You see, it was high tide, and a Nor’easter was bearing down on us. Where else would I go but my favorite local pub? Yes, I tucked myself into the Barnacle, with some hot “chowdah” and a cold drink. Because while usually, the “rules” say that work is work and there should be no deviation from that, reality tells us that life is life, and if you don’t take a break now and then, you’ll go cuckoo.

The ocean is my go-to for just about everything, but when there’s a local pub that has good chowder, happy people and a great view of the waves, it’s even more magical. The bar is packed on most days, but throw in a storm, and it’s the hot happening place to be. Also, as a journalist, isn’t it part of my job to be where the action is? To be ready to report on the news of the day? A bloody Mary and some chowder make it more fun, but it is my sacred duty, right? OK, well, that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

The thing is, we are always told that when the going gets tough, just keep going. Don’t stop, one foot in front of the other, just keep looking forward, eyes on the prize, never slowing down. Swim, don’t sink (wait, isn’t there a book about that? Yes, there is!) Sorry, but I beg to differ. While I’m no quitter, it must be said that now and then it’s a good idea to step away from all the drama and stress. When I would put my children in time out, it was mostly about me. They needed to be settled in a place where I couldn’t kick their butts, because, as my friend Kristen tells me all the time, I don’t look good in prison orange.

A timeout is as much for the parent as it is for the child. There are likely thousands of kids who owe their lives and their ability to walk upright to the timeout theory of discipline. Personally, there are at least that many parents who should be grateful as well. Whether it’s another day in the throes of child-rearing, pesky office politics, or just one of those days where nothing is going right, you need to stop. Put yourself in a timeout. Maybe it’s a yoga class, a juicy burger, and fries, a cuppa with a friend, or some lousy binge on Netflix, it doesn’t matter. Just stop and give yourself time to readjust. Time to breathe, chill, regroup, and restore. How you get there isn’t the point, just get there. You’ll be glad you did. [Blows whistle] Timeout: Take a break and come back when you’re ready.

The Season of Schlock

“We all need illusions, that’s why we love movies.”

---Monica Bellucci

When you walk into a movie theater there is something magical about that environment. Whether it’s a multiplex at a mall or a local theater, the combination of the smell of hot popcorn, smothered in some chemical oil that’s probably deadly, the squishy lump of smashed Junior Mints on scratchy polyester seats, and that feeling of anticipation as the lights go down is why people are still willing to pay $15 bucks to see a movie. It’s the whole experience.

Things have changed a lot however. The first movie I remember going to was a drive-in. It was a huge treat for our family. My dad took my brother and I, and my mom got to stay home, unburdened by screaming kids and a hungry husband. My father, always in search of a snack, let us have popcorn, candy, and soda and then got us ice cream on the way home. Not long after climbing into my upper bunk bed, I was hanging over the side puking on my brother. It’s been a family legend for years. Hurl on a sibling just once, and they never let you forget it.

Movies are still a fun outing for me, but honestly, it’s been a while since I’ve gone to the theater and seen something. I always mean to, especially when I pass by the Warwick and see the coming attractions and times on the sign. Somehow, though, there never seems to be the time; I need work on that. What there is time for, however, is bingeing movies online.  I need some kind of video Valium the background while when I’m working, it helps me focus. 

Since the holidays are approaching, many of my friends are eagerly awaiting what I call “The Season of Schlock.” I get that Lifetime, Oxygen, Hallmark and others put out Christmas movies around now and, #SorryNotSorry it must be said: some of these movies are just awful.

Seriously there should be a drinking game to make up a plot for these. Essentially, most of them are some variant of an abused or otherwise traumatized woman arriving in a small town where she knows no one and trusts no one. She can magically survive and pay all her bills by working part-time at the local diner that gets six customers a week. One of whom is a local rancher, who is often lost in thought and doesn’t say much. She and the rancher fall in love over both being lonely at Christmas (insert flashback of holiday related past trauma) and in a holiday miracle, the rancher is revealed as a multi-millionaire who whisks Diner girl off to his palatial “farmhouse” to raise orphaned ponies. The end. Change a few details, insert a lost child or a natural disaster and you have six more movies just like it. The networks wouldn’t keep making these movies if they didn’t pay off, but maybe there’s some gene missing in my DNA because they’re not my cup of cocoa?

The concept of escapism in movies is valid. Sure, we all want to watch something that makes us feel we could be someone else for a couple of hours. For me, however, the magical movie fantasy doesn’t involve a small town, mountain cabins, or working in a diner. I’ve been lucky; I’ve already gotten to do that. I want to watch a movie where the writing leaps off the screen it’s so well done. Where the actors get each nuance of their character exactly right. Where the locations are real and not just some soundstage.

 It’s not a snob thing; plenty of my favorite movies are light hearted and not really “deep” at all. Example? 

The Birdcage. One of the best movies ever made because it has slapstick, politics, love, family, and drag queens. What more could you want? Oh, Pierce Brosnan, my secret boyfriend. He’s not in that one, but I’ll watch any movie he’s ever in, silly or serious. I’d pay $15 to watch him tie his shoes. He doesn’t need to speed around in an Aston Martin or steal a painting, or sing…wait, alright, I got a little off-track there.

So, yes, I can see why in the midst of the holiday stress, these movies are pretty popular. Don’t we all just want to zone out every now and then? Just don’t look at me like I’m some disgrace to the sisterhood for not hopping on the movie of the week bandwagon. Mind candy is completely fine, we all need it. I’ll pass on the candy cane cinema, but if anyone wants to have a James Bond binge party, let me know!