Or when your cable Internet goes down, Saturday (thanks, RCN).
Dora Barbaresi (my grandmother), on the right, around 1941, with her father, George, and older sister, Eva Blasi.
It’s hard to believe that Nonni (Dora) is younger in this picture than I am now, but I guess the camera doesn’t lie. Is this the same woman who, in my recent memory, would feign a heart attack when the cops pulled her over for speeding? Sure is.
She’d be in her early twenties here. She spoke English and Italian fluently, although her parents got by speaking hardly any English. New Haven was very Italian back then and her father was a member of the Marchigiano Club. No ladies were allowed, and you peed into a trough right there at the bar. Ah, the good old days.
Like the rest of her sisters, Dora couldn’t finish high school because she needed to help support the family. All of the girls were smart, but their mother insisted that they go to work as soon as the law said they could. Rumor has it that on more than one occasion, Dora fought to keep what she had worked so hard to earn in the dress shop.
Several of her sisters, like Eva, were already married and starting families. World War II was heating up, and Dora’s boyfriend, Freddie (whom she would later marry), was considering enlisting in the Army.
Around this time, Dora’s sister, Anne, a platinum blonde, was sitting in the audience of the Miss New Haven beauty pageant when the judges pulled her onstage with the other contestants. Their father, usually a mild-mannered man, was horrified. “You’re beautiful,” he would say to his girls, “but you’re not supposed to brag. You’re supposed to be quiet. Act like a lady.” But they made Anne go up, and she won.
Chicken Soup
This simple soup goes hand in hand with two of the family’s favorite pasta recipes coming up. Nonni isn’t big on amounts, as she just uses what she has around the house, but this recipe will get you where you want to be. She cuts her whole chicken in half because her pot isn’t big enough to accommodate a whole one. She freezes the other for later use.
1 whole chicken (3-4 lb.), cut in half
2 cloves, pressed into chicken (not garlic cloves, actual spice cloves)
2 small onions, peeled and halved
2 ribs celery, cut into large pieces
2 carrots, cut into large pieces
Small can (14.5 oz.) of stewed tomatoes
Salt and pepper
Add all ingredients to a large pot and cover with water by two inches. Bring to a boil, then cover, lower heat, and simmer for 1 hour. Strain soup and set aside. Reserve carrots and chicken (remove the cloves). Cut carrots into chunks and pull off shreds of chicken meat with a fork to add to soup. Season with salt and pepper. Serve with cappellettis or passatellis, or freeze.
Dora [Barbaresi] Donroe
New Haven, Connecticut
1918 -
I love this project, and I love the cookbooks, and I love Nonni! I'm going to drive to New Haven and show up on her doorstep so she can cook for me. Yum.
Thanks for sharing this.
Posted by: squeezyB | February 17, 2007 at 01:08 PM
Great picture! Great write-up!
Posted by: Dad | February 17, 2007 at 02:54 PM
Dora is so pretty in that picture. You're lucky you have pictures of your family. Good write up!
Posted by: Sally | February 18, 2007 at 08:38 AM
I know, she's totally cute. This picture is pretty washed out, as you can see, but it's one of my favorites.
Posted by: Tammy | February 18, 2007 at 09:14 AM
Tammy's anecdote concerning the Marchigiano Club is based on my memory as a little boy living with my grandparents for about six months in 1956. On the Saturdays when my grandmom had lots to do and didn't need me underfoot, my granddad would take me to the club where he would buy me a Hershey Bar and then spend the rest of the time talking Italian with his friends. I would be bored and spend my time running around the bar stools and in and out of the trough that existed at the foot of the bar. My granddad would yell at me using the Italian word for "urinate", which I didn't understand at the time (my mom would explain it to me later). The trough, of course, was there to dispose of spilled beer: however, some of the club's membership evidently weren't adverse to using it for other types of runoff.
Posted by: Dad | February 18, 2007 at 11:57 AM
Dad - you should have your own blog! Seriously!
Posted by: Sally | February 19, 2007 at 04:41 PM
I know. What do you say, Dad? We can have dueling blogs.
Posted by: Tammy | February 19, 2007 at 08:25 PM
Thanks, but then I wouldn't have the time to eat all those delicious meals and desserts Tammy makes for me!
Posted by: Dad | February 19, 2007 at 08:43 PM