Nonna's Recipes

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Nonna Zita and her Recipes

Nonna Zita is the wife of nonno Stefano, the mother of Maria, Iolanda, Aladino, Aladina and Teobaldo my father, the baby of the family born in 1922.
She had married in 1906 and had her first child in 1907, a boy who died just after birth, was not baptized by the priest and was sent to the Limbo, a special place where all children not baptized went or so the priests used to say in those days.
So nonna Zita being a very practical woman decided to baptize all her other children herself right after birth. That meant that all of Zitas` children got baptized twice, and they all went proud of it until the town priest did find out.
When Zita came from the nearby village as a newlywed she had made Stefano promise her that she would never be sent into the woods to get the wood for the fire or for the old terracotta oven for the family’s bread baking. When that promise was not kept by my grandfather she asked for an explanation and his answer was that it was not him that forced her to go but the need of the family to keep warm and to have fresh bread. After this Zita learned not to ask for any promises from anybody, she would be too disappointed if they where not kept.
She practically raised her family on her own, growing her beautiful vegetable garden, keeping all sorts of farm animals from a cow, that assured the family fresh milk, two chickens, ducks rabbits and a pig who was killed every year in November.
Nonno Stefano was working in Corsica building homes for the rich French families. He would come home every two years to see his family and to get nonna Zita pregnant again. That is why Zita was not too pleased to have her husband come home. She missed him very much so because life in the small village was hard without a husband, but she rather miss him and do all the work on the farm than having a child every three years. She was really happy the time he decided to go to America because at least she could be sure that it would take him longer to get back home and she could rest for a while. That is why there was a 7 year gap between my father and his older sister Aladina. Zita carries her stuff on the head

Zita worked hard on the farm and as the children grew she could count on their help. She also washed and ironed clothes for the richer families in Lucca. She would walk 7 kilometres to the city with a basked on her head to pick up the laundry and 7 kilometres again the following week. She learned many things on her weekly walks to the city, things that an illiterate woman of those days could not possibly know. She learned that the city people, even in those days, where not as happy and as free as she was, that the city children had more things than hers but looked pale and had less respect than her children had for the small things she could give them. To her that meant that money could not make you happy if the happiness was not in your blood. She learned by just looking in someone’s eyes if she could trust them or not. On her weekly trips she would always bring home a day old Buccellato (it was cheaper if a day old). A sweet bread with raisins and anisette that later on she learned to fry and serve it as a dessert, but only on very special occasions. Her children took turns in going to Lucca with her, sometimes they would even fight to be able to go because that meant that whoever went with her would get a special treat, a doughnut like sweet pastry called “ frate “.
After a while she begged the street vender so much to give her the recipe that he gave in and from then on she was the only one in the village that could make them. But then again on very special occasions because you needed eggs to make them, but the eggs from the farm where sold at the market to be able to buy other things she could not grow herself, such as salt, pepper and sneezing tobacco. On the way to the city she would always find other women like her so she was able to share everyday experiences, homemade medications, recipes and sometime by listening to the men on their way to the market even political considerations. In other words the other women of the village looked up to her and many times she was called by them to help deliver babies (if the midwife could not be found), to do simple medications if someone got hurt while working in the fields, to treat toothaches, stomach pains or any kind of ailment. She never asked for a penny for the help she gave, she got something back that was much more meaningful to her. She got the respect of the women and men of the town. One of her motto’s was “ when you give something out of your door it always comes back through the window “. Because of her even her children where respected by the other children. They could always find something to eat at Zitas`s house. Everyone was welcomed at any time. At every meal she always considered extra portions because you never knew if someone showed up, this was her richness and also, I believe, why she became such a good cook.
Zita was also a firm believer in hygiene, she said that a clean bed and a clean kitchen made you live longer. There was no running water in her house, all the water you wanted you got it from the well in the front garden, that was also the place to store food in summertime. The food that you wanted to keep fresh was placed in the copper pail and put down in the well just above the water level. I can assure you that the temperature there was cold.
A big watermelon that was once put in the well to cool off, once fell out of the pail, there was no way to get it back, it just floated on the water for hours until one of Zita`s children decided to tie the rope to his or her waist go down and fetch the watermelon. No one to this day has ever broken the vow that no one should know who did it, Zita`s fury would have fallen on him or her. Even now, that aunt Aladina is the only one living and well into her nineties that vow has not been broken. Zita`s children learned soon the importance of a promise and of a watermelon.
At this point you may wonder what all this has to do with recipes? But you see if you really stop and think about family recipes they all have stories behind them. You have to learn about a persons life in order to understand and appreciate what she cooks and Zita, the illiterate farm woman had a very interesting and full existence. She saw the sea for the first time when she was almost forty and keep in mind that the small city of Viareggio is just 25 kilometres from the small village of San Leonardo in Treponzio.
She had the privilege to see the sea because one of her older sisters who was a nun of the order of Saint Zita had been transferred to a monastery by the seaside. She got to town very early and was able to see the small fishing boats come in to sell their catch. To anyone who saw the sea for the first time you would think that on coming back home she would tell her children and friends stories about the beautiful seashore and boats. Not Zita she only talked about all the baskets of fish, and all the different kinds, up to that time she had only seen Baccala (a fish that the poor people of those times ate each Friday), nowadays Baccala is a very expensive fish to buy, but that is another recipe for us to make.
I have learned how to cook from Zita, I have added little of my own. Both my husband and myself love to work in our kitchen. We do our best to prepare all of our inherited recipes. We also love to entertain our friends and guests with all the beautiful stories that have been handed down to me by Zita. Every time I tell a story to my friends it is like making my grandmother immortal. I’m sure that if she could see me putting down her life and recipes on this computer she would be proud and happy “when you give something out of your door it always comes back through the window.”