Obviously he does not live in my hometown neighborhood with the old school nanas (western European grandmas) and babas (eastern European grandmas), both of which raised generations of kids AND had mustaches that cans of Barbisol would run in fear from (facial, neck, arm, leg, you name it – old lady hair). Chat with my childhood Italian/Sicilian and the Polish/Russian grandmamas – great stories from the old country and some great recipes I have to this day. But then again, not only would they collectively kick his butt in multiple languages for the ‘men versus women’ do it better ideals, they would argue amongst themselves over the the best healing foods to repair him (scungilii and calamari versus pieroghi and borschts). Either way, they would make sure he was fed.
Truth be told – never argue with an older woman who raised (on average) nine kids of her own and watched over the rest of the neighborhood, did laundry by hand (wash and dry) AND could stare down the coal and oil deliverymen into submission over a half pound/gallon of fuel. And could still make a kick-a$$ dessert I strive to recreate to this day, MANY years later. I lost my personal notes of their recipes I wrote as a 5th grader (class project), and that is one regret I have to this day.
Obviously he does not live in my hometown neighborhood with the old school nanas (western European grandmas) and babas (eastern European grandmas), both of which raised generations of kids AND had mustaches that cans of Barbisol would run in fear from (facial, neck, arm, leg, you name it – old lady hair). Chat with my childhood Italian/Sicilian and the Polish/Russian grandmamas – great stories from the old country and some great recipes I have to this day. But then again, not only would they collectively kick his butt in multiple languages for the ‘men versus women’ do it better ideals, they would argue amongst themselves over the the best healing foods to repair him (scungilii and calamari versus pieroghi and borschts). Either way, they would make sure he was fed.
Truth be told – never argue with an older woman who raised (on average) nine kids of her own and watched over the rest of the neighborhood, did laundry by hand (wash and dry) AND could stare down the coal and oil deliverymen into submission over a half pound/gallon of fuel. And could still make a kick-a$$ dessert I strive to recreate to this day, MANY years later. I lost my personal notes of their recipes I wrote as a 5th grader (class project), and that is one regret I have to this day.
Carry on. Without my regrets.