Dear Readers,
Mother’s Day is Sunday, May 8th, therefore, for those of us who remember the melody, but for whom the “Mamma” lyrics did not linger on, here they are:
MAMMA Mamma son tanto felice Perchč ritorno da te... La mia canzone ti dice Ch’č il pių bel giorno per me! Mamma son tanto felice; Viver lontano perchč? Mamma, Solo per te la mia canzone
vola... Mamma, Sarai con me, tu non sarai pių
sola, Quanto ti voglio bene! Queste parole d’amore Che ti sospira il mio cuore Forse non s’usano pių..
***
Anna M. Jarvis, born in 1864 in Webster, VA, is credited as the force behind Mother’s Day. When Jarvis was 41, her mother died. On the second anniversary of her mother’s death (the second Sunday in May 1908), Jarvis made public her plans to establish a day to honor mothers.
Other sources report Mother’s day church services on May 10, 1908, in Grafton, WV, and a cel- ebration of mothers at the Wan- namaker Auditorium in Philadel- phia, PA, on the same day.
President Woodrow Wilson, in 1914, made the official announ- cement, proclaiming Mother’s Day a national observance that was to be held each year on the 2nd Sunday of May.
Mother’s Day is observed across a wide range of relationships. In addition to adult or child to mother/grandmother and husband to wife, the celebration now extends to daughters, sisters, aunts, mothers of loved ones, friends and others who play a mother-like role. This trend reflects the fact that “traditional” is no longer traditional, more than 35 million stepfamilies exist in the U.S.
Many other countries of the world celebrate their own Mother’s Day at different times throughout the year. Italy, Turkey, Australia, Denmark, Finland and Belgium celebrate Mother’s Day on the second Sunday in May, as we do in the United States.
***
Happy Mother’s Day Dear Readers. As for me, I really hit the jackpot and was twice blessed when it came to mothers. My mother Caterina and my mother-in-law Angelina were women of uncommon kindness and generosity. Angels on earth, they are now angels in heaven. Here a couple of recipes I want to share with you.
I have been a meatball critic since I was old enough to pronounce “polpette” and learned that meatballs were not created equal, after eating “polpette” at the homes of mamma’s “paesani” friends.
I learned that bread is cheaper than meat, as part of my early childhood education, when I complained aloud that a certain signora made meatballs that were really “breadballs” if one were to judge the paucity of meat they contained.
I always thought my mother made the best “polpette” in town avoided “store bought”. After mamma passed away, I had no choice, it was either eat meatballs out or make them meatballs in restaurants, Italian or otherwise, until I was old enough to vote. myself, so I did. However, I did not hesitate to take a few shortcuts such as dried herbs and canned marinara sauce, perked up with two tablespoons of red wine per seven oz. can of marinara sauce. Golden Grain brand was a favorite of mine. Here is my mamma’s meatball recipe:
Mom’s Meatballs
1 lb ground beef
1 tablespoon parsley
4 tablespoons grated cheese
2 tablespoons bread crumbs
6 tablespoons of water
1/2 tablespoon finocchio (fennel)
dash of garlic powder
1 egg yolk
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon accent (optional)
1 tablespoon chopped onion (optional)
(Approximately 12 balls, use a tablespoon to form)
Brown in hot oil in pan for approximately 5 minutes per side, then add one or two 7 oz. cans of marinara sauce. Simmer 5 minutes and serve with sauce over your favorite cooked pasta or ravioli...Enjoy!
Note: If you don’t want to brown in hot oil, you can bake them in a preheated 450 oven for 10 minutes before adding the marinara sauce.
“Rosemary is Remembrance” but for me Rosemary is the herb my mother used to flavor her roast leg of lamb. It was so good, English mint jelly was not needed to perk it up.
Here is Mamma’s Leg of Lamb Italian recipe:
4 lb leg of lamb
1. Put in pan
2. Make holes and fill with rosemary and garlic
3. Put peeled potatoes around lamb
4. Pour over lamb and potatoes
4 tablespoons of oil in a cup of hot water
5. Sprinkle over lamb and potatoes salt and garlic powder
6. Preheat oven at 400° and roast lamb for 1 hour.
Turn and baste. Reduce temperature to 275° and roast for additional 30 minutes. Add 1/2 a cup of wine, bake at 175° for 10 minutes the let sit for 10 minutes with oven turned off before removing from oven to cut slices.
***
Mother’s Day is a good time to read and share this old folk tale with the “bambini” in your life.
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN IN THE WORLD.
Once upon a time, all the people of a small town were out working in the fields when they heard someone crying. They looked to find where the crying was coming from. Finally, one them found a little boy at the edge of the field. “Don’t cry” the man said. “Where is your mother?” “I don’t know” said the tearful boy. “You don’t know where your mother is?” the man asked. “You’re lost? Don’t you worry. I will find your mother for you. What does she look like?” The little boy stopped crying. “My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!” “Well, she should not be too hard to find then!” said the man.
He held the boy’s hand and led him back to town. “Here you are”, said the man. “This is the most beautiful woman in our town. Is she your mother?” “Oh, no!” the little boy said. “My mother is much more beauti- ful. My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!”
“Hmm” said the man. “This is going to be harder than I thought. If the most beautiful woman in our town isn’t the boy’s mother then we will try the nearby towns”. He sent people to all the small towns nearby and in each one they chose the most beautiful woman and brought her back to the little boy. The boy took one look, started to cry again, and said, “Oh no. That’s not my mother. My mother is much more beautiful. My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world!”
Finally, all the beautiful women in the land had been found and brought to the boy, and none of them was his mother. “I don’t know what to do,” said the man. “Where can this boy’s beautiful mother be? I don’t know where else to look”.
Just then, an old woman came pushing through the crowd. Her hands were rough and worn. Her shoulders were bent from work- ing many years in the fields. Her clothes were not much more than rags. Her eyes had circles under them, and were red from crying.
The little boy looked at the old woman. “Mother!” he called out, and ran to her and hugged her. “Son? Is it really you? I’ve been looking for you. I’ve been so worried!” “Is this woman your mother?” asked the man. “Oh, yes!” said the little boy.
“But you told me that your mother was the most beautiful woman in the world”.
“She is!” the little boy answered proudly. “My mother is the most beautiful woman in the world”.
“Hmm”, the man said to himself. “I wouldn’t call her beauti- ful, but what I think doesn’t matter. If the boy believes his mother is the most beautiful woman in the world, that’s the only thing that is most important!”
