A photo taken with Nanna Francesca at my first big Italian wedding in the 1970s. (The reception venue of the day complete with champagne glass tower, doves, smoke machine and parquetry dance floor to slide across later on!)
I have to laugh seeing Nanna Francesca and me dressed uncannily unlike here. 👀 By the time I was in my teenage years, this would’ve driven me crazy! 😄 In a way I had to come full circle over the years in my relationship with Nanna Francesca. From the comfort of her tucking me in bed (very tight!) when I stayed over and the joy of her taking me to the ‘pictures’ (where she talked loud!) – to when I was a teen fighting against her traditional, often restrictive, ways (and strong advice!) – to later, when I’d grown up, truly appreciating her.
Only then did I fully realise how tough life had been on her at times – the early griefs, sacrifices and stoic endurance that made her who she was. She gave me a love of cooking, her mother’s embroidered linens and many items for my ‘Glory box’. She also gave me true unconditional love and that is so precious to receive, for it stays with you.
Happy Mother’s day to all the mums and tight hugs to those missing their mums, grandmothers and mother figures no longer with us but whose part in our lives keeps on giving richness and love in all that they gave. Much love! Zoë x
On the kitchen table today… olive twigs from the backyard. I planted this olive tree as a sapling with Nonno Anni, almost twenty years ago now, one March on San Giuseppe day (Italian Father’s day), and it’s stayed a lovely connection to him and, of course, Italy. That said, it’s never given one single olive in Brisbane’s subtropical humidity 😄 but it seems happy and its leaves are a beautiful pale green. (With many health benefits too – I’ve discovered a sprig of olive leaves can be added to soups, stews and even to the water used to boil pasta! Might give it a go and see.)
A part of my Italian-Australian life in two photos… the first one – Nanna Francesca (centre) taking her visiting cousins from Sydney to Qld’s Big Pineapple. To me, there’s something about seeing these three Italian migrant women standing in front of something so Australian, knowing how my nonna loved going there and knowing how it was a world away from their stone villages in Italy. Nanna Francesca brought me back an enormous Big Pineapple pencil with a pineapple on the end of it. I was about five (and still have it!) She also bought herself a Big Pineapple tea-towel and salt and pepper shakers.
These shakers – in the second photo – sat, never used, behind glass in her ‘good’ cabinet, for decades. Then, after my grandparents had both died and the family was packing up their house of more than fifty years, I found myself standing in front of this cabinet looking at those two pineapples. Yes, they were kitschy but I couldn’t let them end up lost, so now they sit on a bookshelf in my kitchen, a little reminder of Nanna Francesca that makes me smile.
Spring circles in the kitchen and garden – eggs in purgatory, ‘lucky’ lentils, broad bean risotto fritters, a dandelion flower, melanzane fritte, orange patty cakes, fava spaghetti with spring greens…
A quiet Sunday, Brisbane, 1954, out front of the fruit shop and milk bar… when cousin Tony came to visit from Melbourne and everyone met there for photos since, at this time, Nonno Anni kept it open from 7am until 10pm, 363 days a year.
Recently, my cousin, Carlo (on Granny Maddalena’s side), who lives in Italy, revisited the area of our ancestors in Abruzzo and sent me these photos of pallotte cacio e ova that he’d cooked for the first time. His mother used to make this dish and our shared nonni in Abruzzo would make it too in times past.
Thank you for all your kindnesses after my last post. I’ve now passed the halfway mark of my six-week recovery since I got home from hospital after the surgery and while some days have had challenges, I’m going pretty well so far.
In recent weeks, I’ve had some unexpected serious health news with a bit of a cancer scare. It’s all happened quite swiftly and following numerous tests, I’ve had abdominal surgery, been in hospital and am now back at home in what I’m told will be a six-week recovery. I’m extremely relieved and grateful to say that it was caught in time, I am in the clear and recovering well so far.
On the kitchen table… fennel flowers, their little blossoms like star bursts with a slight scent of liquorice, honey and lemon. I came across some fresh fennel bulbs at the market about a month ago but life has taken over for a bit since then! These fennel were irresistible in their curviness. (Male fennel are slimmer, the female fennel more rounded and sweeter – said to be ‘like the many beautiful, curvy women of the Mediterranean shores these plants are indigenous to’!) 😘
It’s taken me until aged fifty, to build and light a fire for the first time. Curiously, until now, it’s just so happened that the men in my life did this task. Whether it was Dad’s big, brick barbecue in the backyard (built by one of Nonno Anni’s Italian mates). The guys among friends building a bonfire on the beach. Or Roger taking care of the fire if we stayed somewhere cold that had a lovely fireplace. For whatever reasons, including living mostly in a subtropical climate, it just didn’t come about to light a fire myself.
This old photo is pretty faded and scratched but the main reason I chose to share it with you on Mother’s Day is that it’s a rare one showing together in a row three generations of women in my family who were mothers to me – Mum, Nanna Francesca and Great-Granny Maddalena.
On the kitchen table today… stripey carnations that take me back to Great-grandma Charlotte’s garden of her small house at Wynnum, where the breezes smelt like the sea (and the muddy flats if the tide was out). 😊
Vale to my great-uncle, Vincenzo, Nanna Francesca’s brother, who she called, Vinchy. Some may recall I wrote about him in my first two books, especially Joe’s Fruit Shop and Milk Bar. To me, he was a quiet, gentle man for whom life was often difficult but he worked hard and was generous in giving lovely gifts with the little he had.
There’s so much I love about this photograph taken in the Brisbane backyard of Granny Maddalena and Nonno Vitale’s house… everyone under the Hills hoist, Granny bending over giggling, the woman’s arm around her. Nonno Anni looking over to see what they’re laughing at, Nanna Francesca always ready for the camera, holding the young boy who doesn’t look so keen to be in the photo.
It was actually Nonno Anni who originally gave me the idea for, The Proxy Bride. When I was talking to him about his life for Joe’s, he mentioned by chance that during WW2 when he and other Italian men were taken from farms around Stanthorpe and sent to internment camps, the women and children suddenly left alone did it very tough. He later heard they were given no assistance and with curfews and restrictions weren’t allowed to drive, many didn’t know how to use the farm equipment or ride a horse and faced poverty and starvation. He mentioned this group of women who banded together to keep their farms going. That really struck me and I felt I’d come back and write about it. When I learnt that some of these women were also proxy brides, it opened up more to the story.
Melanzane fritte – made with eggplants from the backyard vegie patch, just like the crumbed, fried eggplant slices that Nonna Gia and Sofie cook together in, The Proxy Bride. I’ve put these ones on one of Nanna Francesca’s plates and next to them is a little pot I bought in Italy to stand in as a ‘chilli pot’ (though I confess mine has salt in it at present!)
‘Helping Dad’. 😄 (Got to love that 1970s wallpaper. And the Band-Aid on the knee!) Buona festa del papà. 💕 Warmest wishes on this Father’s Day to our fathers and grandfathers present and past, our father figures, those of us who’d hoped to be fathers and all who are caring for and protecting children. Grazie eterni, Dad. 💙 Zoe xx
On the kitchen table today… roses and lemons from a friend’s garden. (With glorious fresh, crisp and sweet musky scents!) The vase came from Nanna Francesca’s ‘good cabinet’ and was a bonbonniere from a 1970s or 80s Italian wedding. (Some will remember those!) It’s 
On the kitchen table today… a friend’s home-grown lemons and mandarins on one of Nanna Francesca’s 1950s dinner plates. So lovely when someone brings you fruit and flowers they’ve grown in their garden. To me they’re the perfect gifts. (And the fresh, crisp lemon scent currently in the kitchen is divine!) 🍋
Zoe xx
Spaghetti squash… a sunny winter vegetable. It grows on a vine like pumpkin and has yellow, star-shaped blossoms that only open for one day. Love how, once tender, you can gently fork the strands from the sides to create spaghetti in its own bowl.
On the kitchen table… a couple of pumpkins we bought from a farmer’s roadside ute near Esk. I love being able to buy straight from a farm ingredients that are in season at their peak and pumpkins even have autumn colours! These will help make many meals but my first thought was pumpkin and ricotta crespelle with crispy sage leaves and a little Parmigiano on top. (Luckily Roger is a fine maker of crespelle, crepes, or scrippelle as they’re called in Abruzzo.)
As promised, the first steps in making wine this summer, taught the old-style way by Nonno Anni and older Italians…
Verso buoni finali e buoni inizi! To good endings and good beginnings (and good coffee too!) What a time it is at present. “Mamma mia!” as Nanna Francesca would say, while Nonno Anni would likely raise his hands, palms up, as if all we can do is get on with it as best we can.
Zoë Boccabella 