Tag Archives: Italian Nonni

Balancing act. 🕸🌿

It’s taken months since Cyclone Alfred (in March) to see spiders in my garden again. I’m so pleased they’re back! It’s funny but the older I get, the more I find myself by chance doing things my nonni did, like taking more notice of what’s going on in the garden.

As many will know, older Italian men and women are experts at observing their gardens each day. Noticing when the first fig tree leaves start being eaten by beetles, that the basil needs its tips pinched to stop it going to seed, 😄 or that the lemon tree craves fertiliser to produce its new crop so it’s time to dig in some kitchen scraps near its base.

Older Italians may often be seen standing or ambling along in their garden, touching different leaves, seemingly doing little but all the time looking, noticing, helping keep it all in balance. Now, early most mornings before I sit down at my desk to write, I find myself too taking a short stroll in the garden, observing, noticing. I may still be yet to get to the level of gardening of many older Italians but I’m happy to keep learning, watching and it feels nice to carry on their ways in some small way. 💚

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On the kitchen table today… peas!

Since I was a kid I’ve loved eating peas ‘out of the pod’. Just seeing them brings up lovely memories. Like the time I bought a bagful from a stall at the market in L’Aquila and took them back to the house in Fossa. Sitting shelling them (and eating most) and watching village life amble by.

Nanna Francesca’s colossal bowls brimming with peas in leftover tomato sauce, passata, ‘the gravy’ as she called it, that she served with her home-made meatballs, polpette, more egg-shaped than round.

One evening when I was in Calabria, seeing in a Castrovillari lane an elderly couple chatting while sitting on their front step shelling peas together. Sensing the lovely camaraderie between them borne of a long time together.

And, of course, Nonno Anni’s pea patch in his backyard at New Farm in the 1970s. Come winter, it was a forest to me as a child when I’d work my way up and down the rows, swiftly learning to open the pods single-handedly as I crammed peas into my mouth. How kind Nonno Anni and Nanna Francesca were that they didn’t mind a kid decimating their crop at times!

Although over the years, this pea patch was replaced by snake beans, chicory then a stack of bricks, I recall again now how years later, when I was an adult, Nonno Anni planted peas there again. ‘Remember how you were always in the pea patch when you were little?’ he said to me, eyes crinkling in a smile with a bit of a tear. ‘I planted these for you.’ It still makes my heart swell to think of it.

I’ve been buying peas from the market every week while they’ve been in season the past few months and this is the last basket now for the year. I’m sad to see them go but they wouldn’t seem as special if I could buy them all year round anyway. So I’ll savour these (not sure any will make it into the pot!) and look forward to more peas come next winter. 😊💚

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Four generations of hand-sewn linens…

I never expected to end up with a collection of linens that span four generations of women on both sides of my family. Especially since, as a teenager, I’d hope for the latest record for my birthday only to be disappointed when Nanna Francesca gave me tablecloths ‘for my Glory box’. Again. For years these sat unused along with the tea towels, doilies and other items I also had no interest in then.

Now I find myself with a chest of drawers filled with linens from Italy, England, Ireland and Australia that I treasure, many made by hand by my grandmothers and bisnonni. There’s a lovely sense of connection in gently holding the fabrics and lace they held… each created and once warmed by their hands. Carefully hand-laundered at the village fountain or the backyard washtub. Placed on tables, or wedding beds, or hidden away for ‘good’.

The designs reflect different cultures, or eras. Great-grandma Charlotte’s crocheted doily for the bread basket is more than a hundred years old. By the mid-20th century, Grandma Lorna, created her more modern take, using green and yellow for a doily. Bisnonna Francesca Carozza’s monogrammed bed linens (CF centre) are also from a century ago, in Calabria, when such items were among the few a woman had to her own name.

The style of embroidery, stitches and cutwork can identify the maker. So too the tiny ‘sewer’s mark’ (see the tablecloth edge pictured next to the initialled linen). Neat, little knots on the back of a piece (pictured) are a sign of hand sewing.

I’ve learnt that they used linen, cotton, flax or hemp, sometimes grown and spun themselves. Cotton warms beneath your hand. Linen stays cool. Hemp retains texture and an earthy scent even after the material is scrubbed with scoria stones in the river then dried in the sun, as were the sheets Granny Maddalena brought to Australia from Abruzzo. A trick to whiten linen is to place it under the moonlight. This is still done today.

In many cultures, linens are passed down from generation to generation and interestingly, with age, most of the natural fabrics become softer yet stronger. I mentioned in Mezza Italiana that those tablecloths Nanna Francesca gave me for birthdays during the 1980s, I’d finally started to use. They’re mostly modest, checked cottons and I can say that now, years later, I truly appreciate them and there’s always one on the kitchen table. Softened with age, perhaps a little faded, but still sturdy and enduring. 💜 Zoë xx

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Fava bean risotto fritters…

The Italian saying, ‘Prendere due piccioni con una fava’ – catch two pigeons with one fava bean – sounds slightly kinder than ‘kill two birds with one stone’ but its meaning, ‘achieve two aims at once’ is the same. It’s fave (broad bean) time again here and they’re particularly fresh, sweet and earthy tasting at present.

We had ‘two aims’ with this lot – a fave and pancetta risotto, and the next day, making the leftover risotto into fritters. (Roger not me, as my cooking is more southern Italian.) I admit, it’s the first time I’ve tried risotto fritters and they are delicious. Maybe a bit too much! And while I can’t take credit for this lot, I did help shell the fave, broad beans.

Shelling is a bit of work, especially removing the outer peel from each bean but we did so ‘Italian style’, sitting around the kitchen table chatting while the sun was setting. It reminded me of an elderly couple I once saw in Basilicata, sitting outside their door in the lane, shelling and chatting together. I admire how, many older Italians, from lifetimes of hard work, appear to be able to turn even tedious tasks into a time of togetherness and having a chat. Those Nonni always seem to know what’s best. Zoe x

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