The year was 1961. I had just lost my beloved husband Raymond to leukemia.
I had three wonderful daughters, ages 16, 15 and the youngest 11 to care for but my loss was so painful that I completely overlooked the fact that they had lost a very loving father. They were feeling deserted and I was oblivious of the fact that they too were suffering.
Our friends Joe and Claire tried to snap me back to reality to no avail.
One day Joe got the idea to have me meet his mother, Tessie. He was the eldest of Tessie’s five boys. I found out later on how wonderful her boys all were, and how much they loved their mama, and rightly so, for she was a very good woman.
Joe told me his mother had weathered many hardships while the boys were growing up. Although Tessie suffered many hearteaches in her young life, she was strong and ever so willing to please.
Her strength saw her through every disaster fate was unkind enough to send her way. He told me when her boys were very young she did a great deal of baking and cooking to make some money of her own.
Later on, she went into the dress making field.
Sad to say, and shame on me, I refused to meet her. I decided she'd be too bossy and frankly the age difference bothered me.
If I would have remained with that point of view I would have lost out on something wonderful. I never (from that day on) ever pre-judged again. My first meeting with Tessie was a gigantic - size surprise.
She was
strikingly beautiful -----she didn’t have a hair out of place and what’s more she looked far younger than her sixty-seven years.
She was dressed to perfection. An apron covered her lovely pale-blue dress because she was preparing food at her stove.
Her home made you feel so very welcome. It was spotlessly clean and bright but even with all this it was really Tessie alone that was the real breath of fresh air.
A magician she was, (of this I was positive) and my feeling in that direction never wavered. Suddenly, hypnotizingly delicious aromas wafted through the air. It was Tessie’s Continental Cooking.
It completely captured my nostrils and made hostage of my soul. The whole experience was bewitching.
Then and there I knew I must acquire Tessie’s art of the culinary. She had to be tuned in to my thoughts for out of the blue, she said, "You come to me –you’ll learn my ways."
"I’d love to—really I mean it---I’d love to learn from you." I heard
me saying all this but I never for a moment believed she meant it. Lucky
for me she meant every word. Then she said, "Make sure you do this thing. It will turn happy for you—happy for me too."
I was absolutely in awe of her. In the short time I spent at her home that day, I knew I was leaving sorrow behind me.
A close well bonded friendship began that day.
Not too long after that day Tessie heard of a vacant apartment in her building. Needless to say I moved me and my girls in quickly before I began to have my usual doubts.
</a>Tessie and her third son Savio (he lived with his mother) were the dearest people in the world to me and my girls. The girls adored them both. No matter what --It was the time spent with Tessie in her magical kitchen that drew us closer and closer together.
The thirty-four year span in our ages meant absolutely zilch to Tessie and me.
Each day we planned—shopped for and prepared meals together. Although I had a beautiful apartment, we all decided to eat dinners in Tessie’s kitchen. It was really wonderful and the girls were happy again.
My girls called Tessie grandma Tessie and she was thrilled. She was in her glory being around girls because except for one beautiful little grand child (a girl at last, named Theresa after her) she had seven grand sons, but Tessie truly loved little girls.
I have to admit it was the wonderful food that mesmerized me where Tessie was concerned.
I felt so safe making Italian dishes with Tessie. I will never forget the day she said "I’m going to let you prepare tonight’s dinner all by your little self." I was petrified because her sister-in-law Tina (who was very finicky about food) was invited to eat with us. That shook me up.
Tessie decided I would do a pepper, potato, onion and sausage frittata.
Thank God (actually easy) *whew* the difficult part to this meal is not in the cooking, the trouble comes when you have to release the frittata from the pan to an inverted plate placed on top of the pan. Then with a steady turn of the wrist, maybe, just maybe, it might land where it belongs.
Then you slide it back onto the skillet and wait for the underside to complete it’s mission.
I hate to snitch on myself, but several previous frittatas landed anywhere but home base. BUT---This one was perfect. It was one the cat didn’t get.
I was thrilled and proud but Tessie was jumping for joy over my marvelous feat. That iron pan is still in use today.
I grew-up in a home where my dad was the chef and I mean a grade-A chef. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t cook (or so I thought) name it and he made it and well too! BUT never did he ever attempt a dish as simple as pasta and meatballs.
Oh dad what you did miss.
I was a good cook thanks to my dad. I loved his immaculate kitchen that smelled of caraway, thyme, nutmeg and allspice, but Tessie’s kitchen was a warm and luscious love affair of oregano, garlic and anisette that lingered on our clothing long after we left her kitchen.
</a>Years later, her son Savio and I got married (with all the trimmings).
Tessie was crazy with happiness, as were we all.
I never thought I could love anyone again the way I loved Ray. How wrong I was, for I loved and adored Savio to my very soul and I always will for he was the love of my life. He still is. He was a darling man, handsome, kind and very warm. And most of all, he loved and adored my children and later, the grandchildren.
How fortunate can one woman be in one lifetime? I got the greatest mother-in-law in the universe and a precious husband, all thanks to continental cooking.
Tessie and Savio have both gone to God now, but whenever I prepare my pasta gravy, I know somewhere in the corner of the kitchen, I can almost hear Tessie saying "No no, not too much garlic, lighten your wrist with the seasoning." And Savio saying, "Remember Babe, soft balls, not golf balls." He was right too. My meatballs became my family's specialty, soft and tasty, just the way my baby loved them.
So you see, I’m never alone anymore, they are both still with me, watching over me and my girls, their husbands, and last but never least, my wonderful grandchildren, three girls and one boy. Tessie’s recipes are jewels to be treasured forever. They are used over and over again. By me, my daughters and now my granddaughter Lynda is very interested in continental cooking.
I have started her with the famous Savio meatballs.
Copyright © 1998, Margaret Naclerio
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