ricksrealpitbbq
New member
Funny how when you're young you can't appreciate the good times.
I'm Italian and grew up in a very traditional Italian household which meant every Sunday we had dinner at Grandma's and Granpa's house. All the aunts and uncles as well as all the cousins were there without fail. There was never an acceptable excuse to miss Sunday's meal. Every Sunday morning my dad and I would go to grandma's for breakfast. As soon as we went through the outdoor door to her first floor kitchen door, we were hit with the smell of maxwell house coffee, (the Medaglia D'Oro was only used for special occasions) Opening the door released the fragrant aroma of meatballs and braciola being fried up in the biggest pan I've ever seen. As was the normal custom, Grandma would save a few meatballs from going in the gravy just for my breakfast. Fresh bread from the oven, some melted butter and those meatballs made the best breakfast I've ever had. I still to this day insist that my wife always put a few meatballs aside for me, so I can relive those happy moments. After breakfast I had to help Grandpa in the garden if it was summer, or in the wine cellar in the fall and winter. After a few hours we'd go home to make sure mom and my sister were awake. And then we'd get ready for lunch time back at Grandma's house. There was always a homemade chicken soup w/ more tiny meatballs of course, a macaroni course and the roasted chicken with potatoes. Every so often we'd have homemade ravioli that I defy anyone to eat more than 6 without being stuffed. Nobody ever left hungry. And then we'd have some sort of pastries for desert. Being that I walked home from school right past Grandma's meant I got to stop in on a regular basis for afternoon snacks too
Just thought I'd share some fond memories
I'm Italian and grew up in a very traditional Italian household which meant every Sunday we had dinner at Grandma's and Granpa's house. All the aunts and uncles as well as all the cousins were there without fail. There was never an acceptable excuse to miss Sunday's meal. Every Sunday morning my dad and I would go to grandma's for breakfast. As soon as we went through the outdoor door to her first floor kitchen door, we were hit with the smell of maxwell house coffee, (the Medaglia D'Oro was only used for special occasions) Opening the door released the fragrant aroma of meatballs and braciola being fried up in the biggest pan I've ever seen. As was the normal custom, Grandma would save a few meatballs from going in the gravy just for my breakfast. Fresh bread from the oven, some melted butter and those meatballs made the best breakfast I've ever had. I still to this day insist that my wife always put a few meatballs aside for me, so I can relive those happy moments. After breakfast I had to help Grandpa in the garden if it was summer, or in the wine cellar in the fall and winter. After a few hours we'd go home to make sure mom and my sister were awake. And then we'd get ready for lunch time back at Grandma's house. There was always a homemade chicken soup w/ more tiny meatballs of course, a macaroni course and the roasted chicken with potatoes. Every so often we'd have homemade ravioli that I defy anyone to eat more than 6 without being stuffed. Nobody ever left hungry. And then we'd have some sort of pastries for desert. Being that I walked home from school right past Grandma's meant I got to stop in on a regular basis for afternoon snacks too
Just thought I'd share some fond memories