Michael and I both come from generations of gardeners on at least one side of our family’s branch. On my side, it was my maternal grandmother, Flora, and on his side, it was his Italian grandfather, Mario.
We indeed inherit from our ancestors, even those we never knew, certain physical traits, emotions, talents, and interests.
Gardening was important in feeding families, eating healthy, and preserving traditions. For Michael’s family, it was growing vegetables to make their Italian dishes. His grandfather refused to eat any food that came in a store-bought can.
Mario and his wife, Marguerite, grew vegetables on their small lot on Long Island. One of Marguerite’s specialties was stuffed squash blossoms. I have yet to learn how to make that dish, but I want to try someday.
In our early years of marriage, we had a garden plot at KSU’s married housing. One time, Michael’s parents came to visit, his father said to his mother, in his New York accent, “Look Lil, farm-i-ol!” It took us many years to understand the meaning of this word, even though we always said it, referring to our garden, which made us laugh. Since then, we have learned the word is an Italian slang used to describe a man farmer, farmaiolo, or farmaiola for a woman farmer. His father left off the last vowels— farmaiol.
Interestingly, when we first moved to Milwaukee in 1987, I met a young woman from Italy, who shared her tradition of going to the farmer’s market to buy Roma tomatoes by the bushel to roast with carrots, celery, onions, basil, and garlic. She gave me my first moulie and taught me her methods of preserving, canning, and freezing Italian tomato sauce. Since then, I have either purchased Roma tomatoes from a farmer’s market or grown them in our garden. I also enjoy making tomato sauce this way; I think of it as a tradition cherished by Michael’s Italian grandparents, who immigrated to America in their twenties.
Although my mother-in-law was an excellent gardener, she did not grow vegetables or pass along her mother’s sauce. I am convinced this practice of preserving “red sauce”was passed down to us through a stranger, since Michael’s grandmother died before he was born.
However, his mother did give me her mother’s pasta bowl, gently chipped with a hairline crack, as well as the stories of her parents’ garden and pasta dishes. I am afraid to use Marguerite’s bowl, but I set it out as a reminder of their Italian heritage and traditions, which we can pass down to our children and grandchildren.
What gardening and/or family recipes were passed down to you? I would love to read about your traditions. Please feel free to leave comments below.
