Me Meme

I have been tagged by both Melting Wok and Wandering Chopsticks for a "5 things people don't know about me" meme. Here goes:

1. While in college, I played the "screaming-chick-who-gets-axed" in a horror flick with the words "Night" and "Dead" in the title (no, it wasn't Night of the Living Dead). I'm sure you can find it on someone's Top 100 Worst Movies ever made meme.

2. I have an affinity for all things Cary Grant and Frank Sinatra.

3. I have never eaten a PB & J sandwich. Ever.

4. I have seen "It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" every year of my life.

5. I once stood up in a banquet hall full of people and bellowed, "Up your nose with a rubber hose!" I was 5 years old, and I loved Vinnie Barbarino.

I've been in Washington, DC this week, where the outside temp was 32 degrees and my body temp was 102 degrees. But, don't feel bad for me. Feel bad for the poor guy who was seated next to a hacking and sneezing me for the 5 and 1/2-hour-long flight across the continent.

So, if you have not been tagged and wish to tell us about you, then you're it. I'll be back posting this week.

Is Reggiano Parmigiano Dangerous?

It’s freezing this morning. Well, actually it’s 48 degrees. But to a Californian, that’s “freezing.” I have lived in Southern California with my husband Jeff for 3 ½ years. We were both born and raised in Providence, Rhode Island. In fact, we recently flew back from there, and on the 6 hr. flight home, I got the idea for this blog.

Growing up Italian in Rhode Island, much of my life has been about food. Even this trip home was about eating. Jeff and I had not been home for Christmas Eve in years. If you’re Italian, then this is a big deal. Such a big deal that we actually had two Christmas Eves—one with Jeff’s family, one with mine. The hilarious stories and fantastic recipes from those two nights alone could fill weeks of this blog.

Even the flight back to California was about food. I am compulsive about a lot of things, as you will learn. Traveling is one of them. Jeff and I managed to fit a week’s worth of clothing in just two carry-on bags. The problem is when you’re Italian, your parents won’t let you leave empty-handed. In our case, this meant a third suitcase full of food also made the flight back.

As we wound our way through Providence’s airport security, in our socks, the TSA guy scanning my luggage, bellowed, “Bag check!” I thought to myself, this can’t be; my ears grew red and hot. Anthony, a big “chooch” (my mother’s word for a not too bright guy—think Baccala from The Sopranos) grabbed my perfectly packed bag, threw it down, and proceeded to ransack it. With beefy hands squeezed into diminutive vinyl gloves, he pulled out what appeared to be a 10 pound aluminum brick. Jeff looked at me and said, “This isn’t good.” Anthony tossed the aluminum object from hand to hand, sniffed it, looked at us, and without missing a beat, said, “Reggiano Parmigiano?” “From my father,” I replied. “Nice,” he said. “Merry Christmas. Hava’ nice trip.” And we were on our way.

This blog will be about my family in RI, my life with my husband in Southern California, and my cooking and recipes. I hope you will love reading it as much as I will love writing it.