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Health & Fitness

Christmas Eve Traditions

We were oblivious to the bone-chilling, icy temperatures outside on the streets of Harlem.  It was a night in December 1961 and a group of us who would later become known as yuppies, dinks, foodies and God knows what else, sat in the Apollo Theater mesmerized by the sounds all around us.  My childhood friend (and genius), Michael Santangelo, was finally realizing his dream – producing a Gospel-song play,  Michael would die at age 42 just before his one-man show at a Delray Beach, Florida art gallery.  For now Black Nativity by Langston Hughes was all he thought about (and getting the show prepped for a decent run).  The entire place quaked and shook with energy.  The audience sang along, clapped and shouted, joyfully participating – all under the direction of Vinnette Carroll.  “Just tell me when was Jesus born?” We were up on our feet before the finale – a very long standing ovation would not subside.  Finally as we were exiting the theater one particularly snarky critic begging for attention cracked, “We’ll never know the answer to that one, will we?”  That edgy comment, his oppositional attitude and wisecracks have remained with me all these years.  I wanted to respond, “In our country we have freedom OF religion not necessarily freedom FROM religion” but held my fire.  You can choose to believe or not but please don’t try to force your beliefs on the faithful.  It’s true, we may never know but why not continue to celebrate on the day that has been set aside?   December 25th has worked for all these generations, why question it?

 We do know that the marriage of Mary to Joseph had been arranged when Mary was 12 years old.  We know too that Joseph was an elderly widower with 4 sons and 2 daughters. a carpenter by trade.  They lived in Nazareth. As was the custom of that time, Joseph needed to return to his place of his birth, Bethlehem, in order to be counted in the census.  And so Joseph and Mary traveled to Bethlehem which is where Jesus was born.  As for the date, we know that Mary was told that she would give birth to a very special baby on March 25th (The Annunciation).  Nine months later would be December 25th – this is how the date was chosen

 Christmas Eve is the Christian liturgical day beginning at sunset and inherited from the Jewish tradition.  For Christians it is also a day to abstain from eating meat.  Italians, especially Sicilians, celebrate with an all seafood meal which can last for a couple of hours, followed by a good dose of Sambuca, Strega or Fernet Branca -- after-dinner liqueurs known to settle the stomach.  My father’s special resource for his fish buying was the Fulton Fish Market.  He would buy a huge amount of sardines – 50 or 60 of those little guys, a whole striped bass, mussels, shrimp, scallops and dried cod (Baccala). By noon he was cleaning each little sardine, chopping off the heads and scaling each one, rinsing and drying them.  He would prepare a garlicky sauce whose ingredients were committed to the memory of Sicilians and Sardinians, the neighboring islanders. This would be the first dish to start the Christmas Eve dinner – Pasta con sarde for about 30 to 35 people. My mother would make the spicy marinara sauce for the mussels, clean the stripped bass and season it for roasting. Fortunately, we had two kitchens – my father adored using the downstairs one in the basement.  It was close to his wine cellar and his basil patch in the garden.  He could create the biggest mess but cleaned up as he went along leaving everything neat, clean and tidy.  It was nothing short of miraculous.  He was a multi-talented person who would have made a great chef. We’d begin our dinner at 7 PM – friends and relatives arrived and the adults drank Manhattans or Martinis (shaken or stirred, green olives or lemon peel) and the kids drank Shirley Temples.  We had deviled eggs and tuna pinwheels (my contribution to the cause), celery, olives, carrot sticks and crackers with cheese or a salmon roe dip.  Mozzarella in carozza was one of my specialties to make, but making 30 or so was a daunting experience.for a 10 year old  Everybody nibbled happily while sipping their cocktails. We always put down decorative place cards to avoid a seating hassle at the last minute.  When the pasta was ready, my father portioned it out.  It was followed by the huge striped bass served by Dad who had a great knack for carving, de-boning and plating foods in a professional manner.  Before dessert we took a break to sing Christmas carols.  My sister and brother would take turns at the piano, playing carols from two antiquated shedding song books (and a few newer pieces of sheet music). Eventually, we would sit down to desserts – Italian pastry, fruit, spumoni and a special dessert always made by my sister Jo. She was the only one in our family who patiently followed recipes, measuring, whisking and smoothing.  She had special tubes for making little pink flowers and tiny green leaves to top her works of art.  After dessert we all played BINGO. Young and old, bonding and laughing until the stroke of midnight.  Our guests would leave and we kids were each allowed to open one single present from under the Christmas tree (it took a lot of bargaining but Mom and Dad always acquiesced).

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 One year our parents took us to midnight Mass at Our Lady of Mount Carmel on Gun Hill Road in the Bronx.  The Mass was said in Latin, the homily in Italian and we fell asleep.  My being the youngest gave me the privilege of being carried to the car – my brother and sister were awakened and had to walk.  You can imagine the complaints, “How come she gets to be carried and we have to walk? It’s not fair.  Just because she’s a baby.”  Needless to say, we never attended midnight Mass again.  The next day was Christmas of course and we had another feast with a change of menu, linens and more family.  Sometimes we needed to set up two kid’s tables.  All the boy cousins and my brother had to sit at their own table so they could secretly devise a plan to sneak cigarettes and matches out to the backyard.  After dinner, if you listened carefully you could hear them coughing their little lungs out.

On Christmas Day, we went to Mass and Communion first thing in the morning, came home and ate a small breakfast and began the routine all over again.  By 2 PM we were savoring manicotti, meatballs and sausage -- smelling the aroma of capon, ham and a standing rib roast.  We happily bonded with close friends and family members while the boys plotted their cigarette break.  No wonder my brother was sent away to Peekskill Military Academy and eventually to West Point.  I miss my parents but most of all I miss my darling siblings during Christmas.  The General and the loving school teacher who baked to perfection.  I'm pretty sure they miss me too.  I told them to save me a seat at their table.  I hope they remember.

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