Christmas

sevenfishestunapastaWhen I was a kid growing up in Rhode Island, I never could understand all the fuss some families made about Christmas Day dinner. It always seemed weird to me. After all, who could eat a huge ham or turkey dinner after a gargantuan Christmas Eve feast?

Of course, when I got a little older, I realized that not everyone celebrated the Italian Feast of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve. I thought that was weird too.

Turns out it's not weird at all. The Italian Feast of the Seven Fishes, is celebrated primarily among southern Italians. And Rhode Island, the state with the highest percentage of Italians, is home to many southern Italians.

This centuries-old feast celebrated on Christmas Eve has its roots in Medieval Italy and the Roman Catholic tradition of abstinence. When Catholics abstained from meat on holy days, they typically ate fish. Why seven types of fish? Historians believe it may be symbolic of Roman Catholicism's seven sacraments. Why Christmas Eve? Because Catholics would await the stroke of midnight, which was the time for the birth of the baby Jesus. That also explains why so many Italians attend midnight mass on Christmas Eve.

Of course, it's not always easy staying awake after savoring a seafood dinner of epic proportions. Though most families enjoy classic southern Italian dishes such as fried smelts and linguine with white clam sauce, many families (like my husband's) have their own specialties, such as Gram's stuffed squid in tomato sauce.

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ImageI’m nervous. I’m not sleeping well. The greatest challenge of my life is one month away and I have yet to start planning it: Christmas dinner. Everything will be riding on it. Not just my self-respect; the respect of my gender – every man who has ever said to his stay at home wife, “Hey, I’d take your job in a minute.” Well, she gave it to me. It’s all mine. And now I’ve got to deliver. Put a stunning meal on the table this Christmas; one that lets my hard working, career-driven wife know she married the right …well …wife.

Let me be frank. I’ve survived these last few months on nothing but moxie, a crock-pot, and a copy of Cooking for Idiots. And now I’m staring at one hard cold fact: not only have I never cooked a Christmas dinner, I can’t recall having eaten one. I’m a Jew: a Jew, who pompously volunteered to cook for his Cuban wife and her family on their most important Holiday of the year. What the hell was I thinking? If some couch potato wants to firm up, you don’t tell him to enter a marathon. You tell him to walk a little, then jog a bit, see if he can eventually work himself up to a mile. Yet here I am, a couch potato running a marathon, a culinary novice planning the mother of all meals: Christmas Dinner. Yikes!

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Elegant Entertaining

by Holly Palance

jolly3.jpgAll I want for Christmas is my caviar pie. Which is a jolly good thing, since it's the only dish I take joy in creating.

Born without the cooking gene, my talent was always for producing and managing parties, until Brent Power, my best friend from grade school served up a delectable dip Christmas Eve 1982 at my wedding shower and I was hooked. I actually broke down, copied the recipe (my first ASK ever) and have been serving it and bringing it as my pot luck contribution ever since to ooh's and ahh's.

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Holly's Foolproof Caviar Pie

Clam Jam Dip

eggplant-dip-or-spread.jpg Ina Garten’s Roasted Eggplant Spread

Lila's Guacamole

Hummus

Leek & Saffron Broiled Oysters

Rebecca’s Simple Ricotta Spread with Garlic Bruschetta

Felicite's Shrimp Tapas

steinxmasOne of my best memories, one that is worth much more to me than money in the bank, is of Christmas at my Grandfather’s when I was a young girl. My grandfather was a larger than life personage. At least to me. In actuality, he only stood about 5 feet 8 inches, if that. But he had girth. He was first generation American Irish, born of immigrant parents and raised in the Bronx. The term self-made was created for him. After winning a scholarship to Fordham University and then Fordham Law, he went on to become a successful lawyer and New York State senator. He made a fortune, and even without the height, carried himself like a man to the manner born.

He considered the 11 children his wife bore him, part of his fortune as well, and loved each one dearly. Though, my mother, being his first born, in my opinion, was his favorite. I idolized my grandfather. I have little memory of his wife, my grandmother, who died when I was three. I didn’t miss knowing her at all because for me, he filled the bill. He was everything. Grandfather, Grandmother, Hero and Chief. He stands before me today as clearly as he did all those years ago, in his navy, pinstriped suit, hand on his gold pocket watch, blue eyes twinkling behind rimless eye glasses, a smile inching across his face.

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stuffedmushrooms.jpgMemories of holiday celebrations remain very food centric for me.  When I recall the roasts, turkeys and hams of holidays past, I am instantly transported to the chaos and love of the kitchens where those meals were affectionately prepared.

Christmas was always spent at my aunt and uncle’s home.  My brother and I could never wait to arrive there to play with our cousins, see all the new toys Santa delivered and for me, eat copious amounts of my aunt’s stuffed mushrooms.  These mushrooms somehow verified it was finally Christmas.  They were not fancy, just mushrooms with a piece of link sausage placed in the cap and baked to perfection.  I craved these mushrooms all year.  They would disappear within minutes of exiting the oven.

As we grew older the family increased and now boyfriends, girlfriends, new husbands and wives were also attending the holiday celebrations so the mushrooms would vanish at an even faster rate.  There were never enough of these little bites to meet the growing families’ demands and the competition to score a few was fierce.  I truly miss that.

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