thanks connie. goin' to fetch them for print now.
{{hugs} }for just reminding me of my "adopted" grandparents.
i never knew any of my grandparents, but i treated my first serious, longterm girlfriend's sicillian-callabrian grandparents as my own; loved and was loved as such. if they didn't pass away from old age, i'd probably still be dating her. (she was a p.i.t.a.
)...only kidding.
anyway, on our annual trips to florida to visit them, the very first thing i did on the day we arrived was work around the yard, especially any heavy work.
i learned a lot about the flora and fauna (are giant, man-eating swarms of bugs considered fauna? let alone the snakes, lizards, and other cold blooded creatures - like the neighbors...
) of the west coast of florida.
and st. augustine grass whacks back when using an egder/weed whacker while wearing shorts.
and never stand under a palm when removing old growth. lots of things come juming, flying, and swinging out, down your neck and back, and into your ears.
but then, everyday was fillled with the most amazingly great food and great times.
if grandpa louie and i got up at 4am to go crabbing or fishing, my grandma celina would be up at 3, making incredible evoo fried pepper, egg, and potato sandwiches for our trip.
then we'd return home with the catch o' the day, and the gf and i would head to the beach, basket prepared be you know who, containing the most perfect sandwiches of salume, cheeses, and pickled or roasted veggies and the ubiquitous tomatoes and onions, between sliced homemade ciabatta drenched in vinegar, evoo, and herbs. we got tan, and fat. what a life!
one day when we sat near the high tide line, some locals tried to push me back in the water in efforts to save me. my mouth was so full, all i could manage was something that sounded like weak whale-song...
seriously tho, the best part of the day was in the evening, when we'd shower up from the beach, and i'd meet grandpa louie in the backyard to recieve instructions for the next day's work. we'd share a plate of anchovies or pickled herring, semolina bread, buffala mozz, roasted peppers, and homemade red vino for me, scotch for him. i can still see him stirring his scotch on the rocks with his index finger, then making jokes about how it too was pickled.
then the festa began. celina had cooked our catch to perfection. my favourite was her our fresh blueclaw crabs in garlic-herb tomato sauce.
no perfect a use of tomatoes could there have been.
we'd sit around the table with giant bowls of angel hair pasta seperating our gazes. that's a good thing, because if you've ever eaten blue claws in sauce, breaking open the shells and sucking out the sweet meat, you end up being covered from ear to ear in red sauce.
those were really great times.
thanks for the trip down memory lane, connie.
...) sounds like a winner.
