"Praying, Pasta and the Family Tree": Growing Up Italian in Endicott, NY

Before diving in, I have to say Endicott is a wonderful place to haveroots. It’s a typical small town of mainly Catholic Italians, each and everyonelike a character on the Soprano’s. For the most part it was safe, fun andthought there wasn’t a ton to do we have bragging rights to being the CarouselCapital of the World. I know, Huge!!! Just to give you an idea of HOW Italianour town is…..let me just fling out a couple of the last names starting at thetop of Oak Hill and working down toward Consol’s Pizza. I am not listing thesenames with any favorites in mind, just the first bunch that pop in my head soall you hot headed Italians that I don’t mention, my apologies. Here we go,obviously Greco, Fiori, Daglio, Pitarelli, Sementelli, Iacovelli, Roma, Bertoni,Tanzini, Fiaco, Giovanelli, Spinelli, (Im getting dizzy, or on my way tocomposing an Italian rap single.) Fiorini, Cieri, Lombardo, Conti, Corino, Nirchi, Rossi…..OK I’ll stop but you getthe idea.

One of my favorite things about being Italian as you can very wellguess, is the food. First off, youreally can’t call yourself Italian until you have your own meatball and saucerecipe, and you also have to be able to cut garlic cloves paper thin with arazor blade. Otherwise…..you’re just European…..not Italian. Secondly, you haveto know what the cornuto or ‘egorne’ is. For those of you that don’t, it’s theHorn pendent many Italians bare around their neck. Cornuto meaning “littlehorn”. This protects you against the infamous “evil eye” or malokio (TheItalian curse) that many scorned Italian women like to dish out. But I digress,back to the food. From pizza, to pasta, fresh baked bread from any of thebakeries (all owned by well known family friends) to mom’s homemade lasagne andchicken cutlet. Pepper cookies, pizelle and pizza fritte hand stretched, friedand powdered with sugar by the sweetest little Italian ladies you couldimagine. As for Italian restaurants, well take your pick. Every eatery isfamily owned and the food just as delicious as the next. Not really an Italianfood chain to be found in our hometown and honestly not necessary. Homemade isthe way to go. Another thing that brings recognition to good ol’ Endicott isthe spiedie. Originally marinated lamb chunks, grilled and placed in thefreshest slice of Italian bread creating what many people in Endicott refer toas a “sangwich”.

So now that brings us to the people, traditions and the “Italian”protocol. To keep this somewhat concise, Im going to paint a picture. It’sChristmas Eve (afternoon), everyone’s a bustle, and I don’t have a single giftwrapped. I get the first call from the Tanzini residence. It’s my friend Kristyinforming me that the chicken cutlets are done, Aunt Rita says hello andVincenzo (her father) is in full reclined position in the La Z Boy. I have no relation to Aunt Rita, but inEndicott everyone is your aunt, uncle our cugino (cousin). Then there isdiscussion of what time we will be meeting for Midnight mass. Do carols startat 11? Or 11:30? So I head down for a quick hello and a tasty bite to eat.Presents can wait to be wrapped. The Tanzini house is a blast as always but Ineed to head home and get ready for 5 o’clock mass. That’s right…this is thefirst church service we attend.

So I get home and grab a roll of wrapping paper only to have the phonering again. It’s the Fiori’sacross the street. More chickencutlets, lasagna, vino and a kitchen island full of Italian pastries andcookies. I can eat again. So I venture over with a bottle of my dad’s homemadewine and a plate of prosciutto that he made and hung in our basement. Beinggreeted at the door, it’s almost like a police line up. Rosemary and Vicwelcome me at the door followed by Maria, Lisa and Joe…..then there’s theextended family tree all in a line behind waiting for the introduction. And itgoes something like this. “Who is this?” someone asks from beyond. “Rosemaryreplies, “It’s Josh…….Greco….from across the street. Carmen and Kathy’s boy.”To which a little Italian lady steps forward and puts me through theinquisition. “Who’s your grandparents? Start with your mother’s side.” So Itell her “Leon and Betty”. “YourDad’s side?” she asks. “Agnes and Anthony…..people called him Hobo (only inEndicott). There is some silence, some scowling and then a giantsmile…..”AHhhhhhhhhhhhh Greco! Come in come in! You want some wine? Have acutlet…..try the pepper cookies I made them today.” So I eat…..once again, havea couple glasses of wine and now I need to get ready for church.

Our family attends service with more Italians mingling and catching upwith introductions much similar to the one I’ve described. It’s now time tohead home for OUR Christmas feast. Yeah…..we eat again…..Fish fry, stuffed shells,maybe some lasagna and of course more homemade wine. I work off the food comaon the couch, shoes off hand tucked in the front of my pants “Al Bundy style”and awake to realize I need to get ready for midnight mass. Midnight mass is arite of passage in the Italian community. And there is no getting out of it.Trust me. There is a test later from the grandparents. “Who said mass? Did youbring back a bulletin? What was the sermon about?” And if you fumble or stutterfor answers….you get a schioff. (That’s a quick slap to the back of the head)

So it’s now 1 in the morning, no presents are wrapped. I’ve been tochurch TWICE….eaten dinner THREE times and the homemade wine is starting topickle my sense of urgency to get the presents wrapped. So I need a helper.It’s been tradition that the Fiori girl (Lisa) comes over across the street witha bottle of her dad’s vino and I bring yet another bottle of my dad’s vino andwe hunker down for a wine tasting and gift wrapping session until about 3am. Nothing beats her showing up at my doorwith a Santa hat, sweats and high heels ready for the wrapping marathon.

This is a very small part of my roots and heritage that I have becomeproud of over the years. Thisdepiction is just a single day out of the year in the Italian way of life. Toreview some bullet points about being Italian. 1.) Go to church and don’tforget to put your offering in the basket. 2.) Know your family tree and 3.)…..andmost importantly especially in my book…….EAT!!!!!!!