That’s right, I said it. Not SAUCE, but GRAVY. For as long as I can remember that red deliciousness with meatballs, sausage, and sometime braciola (look it up), was called gravy. It started early on a Sunday morning at my Nanny Ieradi’s house. This was before I lived with her. She would start the sauce, make the meatballs, brown them with the sausage, and put it aside until the time was right to finish cooking them in the “gravy”.
Sundays in our family was about spaghetti, meatballs, sausage, and gatherings. My Grandmother would get everything together and started cooking before she went to 11:30 mass. When we lived on 21st Street, down the block from my nanny and pop-pop, we kids would walk up to tell nanny that mom and dad would be up with the car to pick her up for church. Pop-pop rarely went to church. He had the important job of stirring the gravy while we were gone and making sure there was wine to have with dinner. Sometimes, before we left for church, we would get a piece of Italian bread and dip it in the gravy. Not too much though, because you weren’t supposed to eat before communion.
After mass, we would drop Nanny off at her house, drive down to ours, and get out of our church clothes and into something we could play in. And oh man, if it was a Sunday that we knew the cousins were coming from New Jersey, you better be wearing something that you could play baseball or football in.
Dinner was at 1:00 PM. Sharp. On Sundays during football season, the Eagles would be on the TV in the living room. No one sat in front of the TV and ate. You were either in the dining room, or in the kitchen with the rest of the kids. Out first came the spaghetti, meatballs, and sausage. My grandmother would put a pork neck bone in the gravy for flavor, and that was hers at dinner. No one touched that bone! After a leisurely meal, complete with Italian bread and wine, the salad would come out as the next course. You didn’t need a salad bowl; that went right on your dinner plate. And after that, and a lot more talk around the table, the peaches and wine would be served for dessert. Even the kids got peaches and wine. While the adults continued to sit at the table, and talk about everything from the weather to that "Stunad" down the street, us kids would go out and play. Man, that was the way to spend a Sunday.
As I got older, I learned how to make gravy and meatballs and braciole. I learned from my grandmother like my father and mother did. All us kids learned how to make “gravy”. And if you ask any one of us, we’ll tell you “Mine’s the best”. For a long time, when the kids were living at home, we continued the tradition and had spaghetti on Sundays, and we would invite family and friends to join us. Sandy and I still have spaghetti on Sunday or Wednesdays. In fact, I just made a batch of gravy, meatballs, and sausage to share with our friends here in The Villages. And although we will be eating it on a Friday, it’s still made from scratch with the same love and care that my Grandmother, Father, and Mother put into it. And while I know it’s going to be delicious, it’s not so much about the meal, but gathering and breaking bread and making memories with great people. Mangia!
