A scene from Nonna's garden in the summertime.
It was late November. A Sunday. Unseasonably cold at ten degrees below the average. The door chimed, a happy mother entered, unloaded her Santa sleigh of goodies, blew a kiss and said goodbye. The next day, a jolly fellow (not dressed in a Santa suit, sadly) repeated the aforementioned. Three kilograms later, I write the post about the arduous journey in progress to remove this excess weight. It is proving more difficult than I could have ever imagined.
Day one began with a game of tennis for one hour: the time passed so quickly and I barely broke a sweat. Day two saw a short jog that ended with a delightfully unexpected craving for McDonald’s. Day three found me more interested in playing Theme Park on the Nintendo DS. Day four was like a sauna in the office, and because of this dehydration, I decided against any further exertion. Day five was the last day of that weight-loss routine, and given my mental exhaustion I decided that a delicious dish of fish and chips was in order. Little did I know that a secret, unannounced dinner invitation had already been made. Soon I found myself burying my stomach deeper and deeper in the specialities of the festive season, Italian-Australian style.
You see, the family tradition for Christmas runs as deep as gold veins in solid stone: you eat… and then eat. And eat some more. You gather at Nonna’s (grandmother) place and fill your plate almost skyhigh with warm potato and artichoke garden salad, pork sausage and rump steak, seasoned potato salad, warm green beans and of course, some crispy Vienna breadrolls. Don’t even start on dessert, where cashew nuts and blanched almonds are scattered across the table, along with overfilled glasses of Cinzano, Tia Maria and Frangelico to toast the platter of fresh fruits in the centre of the table.
You wash it down with some sanguine house wine that is heavy and hearty enough to feel like the kick of a mule, compliment the palate with some fennel leaves drizzled with warm olive oil, chow down the leftover chorizo and voila! You have one highly satiated patient, who is expected to finish a second serving.
With a sob and a guilty tremor to my typing, I courageously explain the source of my sorrow. Santa’s sleigh was very generous but largely expected of this time of year, with a buttery Panetonne, a bag-full of bumpy lemons, several handfuls of parsley, the sweet top-sprigs of basil, dried oregano, some moulded mozzarella and a box of Baci. Every morning I would have a slice (okay, I’m lying through my teeth – I would have one piece in the morning, one for lunch and one after dinner) of Panetonne with my Earl Grey tea or my cappucino. The lemons would be squeezed into a large jar of water for consuming during the day, sprinkling over meats and preserving the other fresh fruits from turning brown. The parsley surrendered to a sumptuous folded omelette, while the basil and oregano topped a bruschetta. As for the Baci? Let’s just say that they never really saw the light of day.
All the while, my fridge holds a large Tupperware container full of chickpeas that are growing frost from being left too deep in the fridge for too long. I honestly surprise myself with wonder as to what exactly it is that we eat every night, but whatever it might be, it never leaves me hungry for long.
Thankfully, given that the family’s ‘child generation’ have now all become adults, we decided to give ourselves a little bit more autonomy and break-away from the purely Italian roots of our celebratory Christmas. Amidst the traditional five-course meal of cold meats and starchy mains, this Christmas Day will serve up a snapper fish with garlic-lemon olive oil, roasted in its own juicies. Dessert will see us having warm rum-custard with jelly and cinnamon and as for the after-dinner refreshments, I’ve heard a rumour that someone will be bringing the Nintendo Wii for some gaming fun in the backyard.
Somewhat of a Christmas culture lost in translation, no? If you’ve a similar (or stranger) experience of Christmas tradition to share, I would be happy to publicise it.
The Wild Thyme and Sweet Pea project found its roots when it was plucked excitedly from the garden, washed briskly in a basin of water and lovingly left out to dry in a soothing marinade of vision and ambition ... More »
The Food of Italy, Kay Halsey
The Medieval Kitchen: Recipes from France and Italy, Odile Redon, Francoise Sabban & Silvano Serventi
The Silver Spoon, Phaidon Press
Jamie's Italy, Jamie Oliver
Italian Country Cooking, Loukie Werle
La Cocina de Mama: The Great Home Cooking of Spain, Penelope Casas