March 24, 2020 – Though it had been decades since I’d seen her, the other day my Grandma Vecchione showed up in my kitchen when I was making gravy—that’s what Italians call spaghetti sauce. It’s her recipe, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by her visit.
She always had a cackle-y laugh, was nearly as wide as she was tall, wore funny-looking shoes that tied on the side. In her kitchen, she made food that had the best of smells and the best of flavors—not only her gravy but fried zucchini flowers, roasted meats, pickled cauliflower, and when we were really lucky, zeppole for dessert.
As a little girl, I spent hours watching her cook, beginning when I needed to perch on a chair to stir the gravy. … Read More