She was an old lady when I was a kid, and now I’m in my late 50’s. Asunta Brancati, my grandmother, emigrated to the U.S. from Italy back near the turn of the century (early 1900’s). She lived well into her 80’s, loving life through the food she cooked and ate. Much of her food was grown in the back yard in her husband’s extensive vegetable gardens. My grandfather would take me down to the water to fish. Any junk fish we caught would go into the ground as fertilizer for his tomatoes, beans, corn, squash, cucumbers, garlic, potatoes, carrots, and myriad other vegetables he grew each summer and fall.
My grandmother showed me how to cook. She didn’t teach me, but since I lived next door to her, I’d be in her kitchen often while she was cooking. There was always something burbling away on the stove — perhaps a pot of sauce, or some meatballs sizzling in a cast iron skillet, or a chicken carcass in a pot with steam rising from it, or Italian pepper bread (friselles) in the oven getting slowly toasted to make a delightful crunchy appetizer or dessert for dipping into coffee or eating by itself. I watched her as she cooked, always busy checking on pots, cleaning pans, or making something hot to drink in the winter, or cool in the summer. She never seemed to stop moving. Ever. Even while she prayed, which was often, she walked around and around the house or around the back yard.
It was from my grandmother that I learned that eating is a lifestyle. It was part of her DNA, this notion of eating as a lifestyle habit. And, as a result, her actions have become part of my DNA. I cook what she cooked, and I eat what she ate. I drink what she drank, and I enjoy moving around a kitchen as an active lifestyle choice of my own. What else did I learn from Asunta (Susie, as her American friends called her, and Nonny as I called her)? Here are the main things:
Eat only what you can readily identify as foods My Nonny eschewed fast food. She’d never let me eat a Ring Ding or a Twinkie. She’d look at me and say “What’s in that?” in her thick Italian accent, a frown of disgust on her face. Then she’d offer me a friselle, or a carrot, or even a glass of wine with a cookie she’d made that morning.
Grow the food you eat. Of course, my grandfather had an amazing vegetable garden, and he fished and foraged, so there was always fresh food around. Today, I go straight to the fresh produce section of the supermarket and dive right in. I stay away from items in boxes or plastic bags, foil packaging or unrecognizable frozen foods that are pre-prepared. If I can’t tell what the food is by looking at it, I’ll shy away from it. Give me a potato or a carrot over fried potato or carrot chips in a bag — no matter how lovely the bag is or how enticing its message that it’s good for me. I’ll opt first for whole chickens, but will also buy chicken parts, like drumsticks or thighs, and I’ll buy fresh fish that are not whole. But I can at least recognize these meats. I won’t buy frozen, processed fish or chicken tenders, since I’ve no clue what might be in them.
Eat while sitting down at a table, preferably with others, and take your time to eat. Not much more to say about that. The key is to enjoy your meal slowly, and in the company of others.
Drink coffee. My grandmother drank coffee, and, thankfully, the brand she drank is still available today. It’s Medaglia D’Oro espresso. (No, they’re not paying me to write this — and neither is St. Lawrence University.) It’s good coffee. Not terribly expensive. And when dripped through a paper filter it tastes lovely. I don’t add sugar or other sweeteners, milk or cream, or flavored syrups. Straight up coffee was good enough for my Nonny, and so it is for me.)
Make your own wine, and put food in jars to save it for the winter. Canning was a big deal. It allowed my grandparents to take what they grew and eat it all year round, even in winter months when snow covered the gardens. The wine, my grandfather made in a cask in the basement. It was pretty strong and tart, but he’d cut it with water for me at the tender age of 7. I’ve not yet succeeded in canning foods or making wine, but they’re on my list to get to in the future.
Stay active inside and out. Like my Nonny, I move around the kitchen while cooking, staying active, keeping busy, peering into pots and pans, stirring, spicing, cajoling foods around on the counter, washing dishes and cutting boards as I cook. I also move outside to take the compost to the compost bin whether I have just a handful of scraps or a whole bucket. Movement is key.
Use olive oil liberally. Butter is fine, but olive oil is better. Period. And eat lots of fresh garlic. Add it to just about everything you cook. Garlic in olive oil, heated in a pan on the stove top, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and used as a dip for fresh-baked bread is a perfect snack — if you must snack.
Don’t diet. My grandmother never dieted. She never seemed to worry about her weight. If she thought I was too thin, she’d make me an extra hamburger — which, by the way, was the same meat mixture as her meatballs. A spicy mixture of ground beef, breadcrumbs, egg, olive oil, salt & pepper, basil, and a dash of oregano. Just eat good things, three times a day.
Don’t snack between meals. Maybe except for fresh bread dipped in a hot garlic/olive oil mixture , or the occasional fresh-baked cookie with the kids.
Keep moving. Get back up and clean the dishes, put everything away then go out for a walk with friends and family after each meal.
These are some of the things I learned from my grandmother. Her ways of eating and using food as a means to create a healthy lifestyle are mine to cherish. To this day, I love to cook, and to clean. I love to move around the kitchen, keep a small garlic garden, and eat foods that I recognize as whole foods.
Here’s a quick photo of a recent meal I made with boneless pork chops, a mixture of black beans and onions, lightly pan-fried spinach, and an over-easy egg to top it off. Spices used were salt & pepper, cumin, smoked paprika, and a bit of turmeric on the egg. Enjoy your newfound life of cooking whole foods and staying active while dong so. I’m guessing it’ll make you happier, healthier, and maybe keep you living a little while longer. Cheers from my kitchen to yours!
Dave Celone writes from Sharon, VT. He enjoys good food and black coffee.
Hi Dave, A nice remembrance of your grandmother. A childhood friend, who is Italian, just sent me some homemade friselles for my birthday earlier this week. Her mother used to make them when we were kids. It was the best gift.