Essay 1-Food Narrative: The Flavor of Family

Meredith Streppa
Adam Weinstein
English 101
7 September, 2007

Growing up in a very rich Italian heritage provided me with a fine education on the great foods and delicacies of my culture. When this assignment was given to me, I automatically knew which food I would pick. This food not only defines me, it defines my life, ancestry, and family. Pasta is a way to bring people, especially family, together to laugh and share good memories. I have been raised around Italian food, and have learned not only to love the taste, but also the meaning.

Making homemade Italian food was a huge part of my childhood. Linguini, angel hair, and gnocchi are all kinds of pastas and dumplings that my whole family would make together. It was a great time to laugh, talk, and bond with my family. Although it took almost a whole day to make, it was worth it. We would knead the flour, eggs, and water until they were soft. This dough was shaped into a loaf which was then cut into slices. Then, these slices were fed through a machine which cut the pasta into its long noodle shape. After putting the noodles through the machine, my brother, sister, and I would always eat the raw pasta. I recall my dad constantly yelling at us because the pasta has raw eggs in it. He would always tell us that we were going to get sick and not be able to eat the actual meal. This is just one of the many memories I have while making and eating pasta with my family.

One memory that will forever stay with me is a trip to Europe with my family when I was eight. We traveled to London, Paris, Switzerland, and Italy. Italy was of course my favorite considering my great-grandparents had come to America from Italy not too long ago. My mother had worked so hard for over a year planning the trip, saving sky miles, Marriott points and what not. In my opinion, the year of planning and budgeting paid off in full. The Church of England, Eiffel Tower, paragliding off of the Swiss Alps, and meeting relatives in Italy is almost impossible to put into words.

During our tenure in Italy, we met some “long lost relatives”. One morning they gave us a tour of the Streppa homeland. As we got to know them and our ancestry a little better we learned that they were cooking a huge meal for my family. The five of us were so excited. We had always eaten Italian food cooked by my grandparents and parents, but never from family members actually living in Italy. Later in the day, we returned to their home where we swam, played outside, and became acquainted with our newly found family members. I particularly remember one experience like it happened yesterday. While taking a tour of the Italian Streppa’s beautiful home and farm, I was playing with some very cute rabbits that my relatives raised. The fur reminded me of the soft hair on a newborn baby. I would race them, and hold them like they were my own. Communicating my cousin that did not speak English was quite the challenge. It seemed that all we could do was play with the rabbits considering she did not know any of the games I played, and vice versa. After playing with the rabbits for about an hour, we were called to the dinner table, where food was lavished end to end.

The table was filled with bountiful colored salads, huge bowls of linguini pasta, and meat sauces galore. All of the food on the table was homemade by a distant aunt and uncle of mine. Three the generations of Streppa’s were sitting at one long table. Ernesto was a far-off uncle of mine who had a girlfriend that spoke English, named Gabrielle. She translated things for us, but the language barrier did not seem to matter. We communicated through body language, as well as facial expressions. Our faces showed our love for Italian food when the warm homemade linguini touched our tongues. The meat in the sauce was so tender and rich in flavor with thyme and rosemary. I commented to my mom about how good it tasted. My father replied, “Well Meredith, do you remember those bunnies you were playing with? That is what you are eating!” My heart sank into my stomach. The whole table erupted into laughter thanks to Gabrielle’s translating. I did not realize the bunnies would later turn into my meal! In a way, discovering that somewhat calmed the nerves of the awkward night. After that moment, everyone seemed to loosen up and show their true character. Yes, we were family, but before that moment there was an uncomfortable feeling because we did not know each other.

Around 12 AM, when everyone was finished with dinner, we went to get Gelato, an Italian ice cream. Surprisingly, the gelato shop was still open. I remember the mango gelato being served in a coconut shell. My first bite tasted like I was eating a freshly picked mango. Later on, we went back to the Streppa’s home where we proceeded out into the street. My relatives turned on their car stereo and blasted music. The whole family was dancing and laughing the night away. As we left, they gave us packages with pasta, salad, and sauce in them so if we got hungry in the hotel we could eat a homemade meal.

All in all, pasta, in my opinion, represents family and good times, which essentially defines me. Whenever I eat a large Italian meal, it is always with my friends, and family. When most people think “Italian” they think of pasta, pizza, and all the good foods that they have to offer. When Italians think of pasta they usually think of eating a large lavish meal with their many family members. Just one pasta dinner can bring together families from all across the country, even the world, to reunite that family bond that essentially every person wishes to have.