Once we turn the calendars and find ourselves in the month of December, conversations among the Italian American community always seem to turn to the Feast of the Seven Fishes on Christmas Eve and which dishes paisans will be preparing.
There are never ending discussions as to the true origin of this traditional feast. Spirited debates usually lead nowhere because there doesn’t seem to be any confirmation if this holiday was started in Italy or in America. My grandparents had no knowledge of this feast of the sea. My mother explained that seafood was more prevalent in southern Italy and her parents were from the north and therefore it was not celebrated. Nonetheless, Christmas Eve seems like a great day to eat seven types of seafood and it’s fun learning from others what’s on their menu.
In my home, my mother always made stuffed clams. Many old school Italians seem to serve bacala (salted cod), stuffed calamari, mussels and of course, shrimps as it is always referred to plurally. Growing up we never had seven different seafood dishes but we did have my grandmother’s tuna. It’s a dip or a spread that goes on a cracker. It takes a few minutes to blend several ingredients together and then chill in the fridge before serving.
In 1934 at 29 years old my grandmother, Palmina Mombello, escaped Fascist Italy and made her way to Paris where she worked as a maid in a hotel near the Eiffel Tower. The owner of the hotel shared this recipe with her and after three months, she packed it along with a few pieces of clothing and a handful of photographs before stowing away on a ship to America. She and a young boy whom she did not know, hid in the hull of a ship between the sheets and towels in the laundry area. She survived only on bread and an orange each day. My Nanny had borrowed a thousand dollars from her nephew Bruno to pay for this voyage, fully aware of the risk of being discovered and thrown overboard. After two weeks, she made it to New York and the rest is history. Every time I make this recipe, I remember my adorable grandmother and her courageous journey to America. A day doesn’t pass when I do not think of her.
Years ago, at our individual bridal showers, our mother presented my sister and me with recipe boxes. She typed up on index cards as many recipes as she thought we should have to begin our married lives.
We all know a picture is worth a thousand words.
America is full of people holding onto recipes from generations ago. From Native Americans to European immigrants and everyone in between, food is an enormous part of our history and is meant to be shared.
In my ever so humble opinion, it doesn’t matter how many types of seafood are served on Christmas Eve. I only need one.
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