Feast Days

We don't especially need a good reason to host a celebration.
Shoot, "It's Sunday!" is enough of a reason.

But last Sunday was extra special, because our family was observing The Feast of St. Joseph, and in the Italian tradition, this means exceptional food and many people with whom to share it. 

Sicilians have been honoring St. Joseph, the patron saint of Fathers and the Protector of Families, since the Middle Ages.  It was through his intercession that they attributed relief of a long drought and famine.  In thanksgiving to God, they gathered together and brought with them the bounty of their harvest, sharing it with the less fortunate.  That's why, today, many St. Joseph tables include an array of delicious food and a donation basket for the poor.

When I was little, I remember my Nana would cook for some Italian friends in her home on St. Joseph's Day.  She would make a little pasta, cook up some frittada,  stuff some cannoli and cream puffs and make sure there were plenty of sesame cookies to dunk in your coffee.  She set a beautiful table and was a wonderful hostess.

When my Polish mother took over the    

Italian tradition, she covered our ping pong table with food and wine and struffoli and Trinity bread and a fruit display and of course, the St. Joseph altar.  The food would spill out over the buffet.  She made pounds and pounds of pasta con sardi with bread crumb topping.  She stuffed artichoke, prepared fresh asparagus, and fried up eggplant parmesan.  She made dozens and dozens of pizzelles, and cream puffs filled with ricotta cheese and chocolate chips, or pistachio or lemon or chocolate fillings. 

The parish priest would come over and bless the table.  Every guest who walked through the front door was greeted with a big hug, and if your name had "Joseph" in it, she promptly pinned you with a red carnation boutineer and wished you "Happy Feast Day!". 

She prepared for weeks in advance, shopping and cooking and cleaning like a mad woman.

One year, after accidentally serving 200 people in her home (hey, she's known for talking to anyone in the grocery store or the back of a church), she passed out on the couch and announced she just couldn't do it anymore: "Con scuse profondo San Giuseppe!"  (Well, actually she didn't say "With deep apologies to St. Joseph"... She really can't speak Italian, but she was thinking it).   The days of the Big Open House were over.  Yet, 12 years ago when our Maddie Jo was born on St. Joseph's Day, mom ceremoniously passed down the wooden spoon to me, and I was honored to carry on  the tradition.

Now, mom still makes the pasta con sardi.  And she brings with her the confeti (Jordan almonds) and the antique candleabra.  And, she stands at the stovetop flipping frittadas with my awesome William-Sonoma frittada pan.  Oh, and she greets everyone with a big hug too. 

But Aunt Jan and her daughters prepare all the fruit, and Trish usually takes care of the fruit display.  Michelle makes the best antipasta because she gets good provalone.  And Charlotte makes the sesame

 cookies.  And CeCe made the strufoli one year, and Danielle made the pizzelles.  Xochitl made the braided Trinity bread shaped in the staff of St. Joseph.  She also made cream puffs, but about 6 pairs of hands fill them in my kitchen. 

Grammy brings all the daffodils and red and white carnations for the table.  Sue has provided all the paper products for years, and I still wear the red apron she lovingly made me.  Mary can't come unless she makes scotcharoos or a fancy cake.  In fact, any contributions to the table just make it all the more beautiful.  And Shannon lets her junior high daughters stay the night before to help scrub floors, vaccuum and dust the house, and steam veggies for the frittadas.  (We play loud music and stay up too late). 

It's tradition.

And it leaves a mark. 

I still get phone calls and cards on March 19th from friends who remember celebrating St. Joseph's Day in the house I grew up in. They share fond memories of the joyful gathering, but even more, they acknowledge something "extraordinary" about the whole celebration. 

It's not a holiday, and it's not a birthday.  There are no presents, but there are many gifts.  You can't help but marvel at a whole crowd of people wearing red, and gathered together for the purpose of a single devotion... "Lord Jesus, you willed to place yourself in the care of St. Joseph.  Bless this food which we are about to enjoy as we put ourselves under his patronage..."  And now my own children and family friends are being blessed by it too.  

There's an inexplicable grace

that permeates a place

where God is at the center

and you break bread together.