One of my quests in my travels, if I can pull it off, is to get myself invited to a local home for a homecooked meal. It is an added bonus if I can do it for a holiday. To experience a holiday from the perspective of a family who celebrates differently than you. Today is Easter and we are headed to Aunt Rina’s for the celebration. Rina is Roberta’s mother and yesterday El asked if she had any insights to what might be on the menu for the feast.
I, generally, don’t eat lamb. But, when I get an invitation to a local’s home to enjoy their food, I look bad showing up with my own pizza. I know that regardless of my eating preferences, I need to make an effort to be as polite and respectful as possible. We learn that we will be starting with a lasagna. So far, so good. However, not unexpectedly, one of the stars of the meal will be roasted lamb. Mentally, I am fine. Just because I don’t like it, doesn’t mean I can’t eat just enough to be polite- taking seconds on the potatoes to express my appreciation. The next part gives me- and El too, a moment of pause- additionally there will be a course of stewed offal. Heart, lungs, and liver slow cooked in a tomato sauce. Some know of my struggles with “milza” (spleen) some years ago and I need to start working now to try to prevent a repeat of my audible wretch at the table with the chef. Once the roasted lamb course is cleared, Cousin Sandro arrives with the moment of truth. A casserole dish filled with a pleasant looking concoction. El leans in and makes sure I understand this is the innards making the rounds. Sandro looks at me- he will serve the table. He senses some fear on my part, but I agree, “go ahead, give me some.” A spoonful lands on my plate as I try to size it up. He looks to El, who passes- agreeing to help me with mine. Frederico passes! Grazia passes! WTF?!? I didn’t know passing was an option!!! Am I going to be the only one who willingly took the serving? Well, as Sandro makes his way around the table some do ask for a portion, with Claudia asking for an extra serving because she loves it so much (I kid you not!) She devoured it like a kid in a gelato shop. I have eaten heart before which is not bad actually- it’s just a tough muscle. Lungs I have never had. I don’t expect there to be much flavor, but the texture could be weird. Liver I have had. I don’t like it. I jab my fork into one of the pieces that I thought was heart. Now or never. I have my bread in one hand, fork in the other, and my wine glass ready once I set the fork down. Fork bite. One chew. Bread. Chew. Swallow. Wine. Swallow. Wine. More bread. Wine. Wine. Wine. That was the plan. I got fork bite. One chew- realize it’s not heart, but a cube of liver which is the most liver tasting liver I have ever had. My mouth fills with the taste of liver and now it is just a race to get it out of my mouth. I am adding bread and wine to the mixture, chewing as fast as I can. I have an involuntary reflux- luckily silent. Luckily no one notices. A second light wretch comes over me, again, mostly undetected. By now, I have forced enough of the bite down that I know at the risk of offending the hostess, I need to cut my losses and hope she is happy enough I tried something instead of just passing outright. I look at Rina, she smiles with approval. I have not offended.
The parade of coffee, cakes, fresh fruits, and limoncello that follows is enough to make me forget the uncomfortability that got me to this point.
Years ago I enjoyed an Easter celebration in a Ukrainian household and now I can safely add an Italian celebration to my tally sheet.
Your on point descriptions had me laughing outloud several times! My laughs, at least not at your expense, as you are already past that experience, but the humor of it remains. So glad you shared it.
ReplyDeleteYou are hysterical!!!! Brave...and hysterical! Lisa
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