Are Aunt Jemima and Mrs. Butterworth still around? I think so, but maybe they've gone through some changes. Mrs. Butterworth probably goes by Ms. Butterworth now. When we started worrying about being politically correct, I think they had makeovers. And I suppose Betty Crocker did, too.
Fortunately Italians still think their fat grandmas are good cooks. And they're proud enough to name a line of plastic containers after them. It's called "Nonna Rina" (Grandma Rina) and it's got a little image of a chubby old lady. I've never paid much attention to tupperware in the past, but with my broken knee I had plenty of time to study just about everything that crossed my path.
Nonna Rina came with Gemma everyday. Gemma is my 73-year old neighbor. When she heard that I was home alone and couldn't walk, she started bringing me food. Most people I know would probably think it was worth having a broken knee for awhile to get a meal made and delivered by an Italian grandma. And once we got things clear about my ridiculous eating habits, it was a treat for me, too. She brought pasta al ragu (with parmesan on top), mashed potatoes (with parmesan mixed in), pasta pomodoro (with a baggie full of parmesan to add at my leisure), mushroom risotto (it's really good if you pick out all of the mushrooms), vegetable soup with fresh vegetables from her garden topped with homemade croutons (if the vegetables are pureed I don't know what I'm eating so I can stomach it. And the homemade croutons? They sound fancy until you remember it's just old bread the cook didn't want to throw away) and the unforgettable cheese-filled tortellini with 4-cheese sauce (topped with a little more parmesan, of course).
So, that's how I got to know Nonna Rina and Gemma. (And it's also how I got a little chubby). Gemma made her way into my heart through my stomach. I never thought I'd say that unless I was talking about the owner of a pizzeria or an ice cream parlor. But now we're girlfriends. We're teaching each other about life in a small town in Italy and life in a big town in America. While Gemma was walking to the neighborhood well to get water to cook and take a bath and do the laundry I was making Spam sandwiches in a microwave.
I had a lot of visits from my new friends. The cast was on for 38 days and then I had crutches for another month when I still couldn't put any weight on my leg. So, once I could kind of walk with the crutches I had to convince her to stop bringing me food. Instead of delivering lunch I told her she had to come take me for a walk. We were quite a sight. I had my crutches and she had her cane. The first few weeks we did LESS than a mile in MORE than an hour. After awhile, I eliminated one crutch. Then we had to switch sides so our limps and crutches complemented one another. Before long, with the insistence of her husband, I got rid of the other crutch, too.
Now I can go for a two-hour crutch-free walk everyday by myself. Then I go home and take a shower, get dressed for Gemma (she likes my hats and scarves) and head back out to take her for her walk. Her husband tells us (everyday) to be careful and not get a speeding ticket. Then she hits him with her cane (everyday) and we head out.
Last week we celebrated her birthday. First we went to a nearby hilltown to take a walk. It wasn't easy for either of us. I'm still not very secure going up and down hills and canes weren't made for cobblestones. We window shopped and then we stopped for coffee.
I don't drink coffee and I'd already had tea in the morning so hot chocolate (or as I like to call it, hot mud) was my only option. I remember my first Italian hot chocolate in 1997. And I remember years later having to explain to an Australian girl in an Italian cafe in Moscow that the waiter hadn't made a mistake and brought her a cup of hot fudge, but that it was, in fact, Italian hot chocolate. You can eat it with a spoon.
It's not easy to finish a small cup of mud on its own and it's absolutely impossible to finish it if you're obliged to eat the unexpectedly delivered piece of birthday meringhe on the side. That's like having a cup of brown sugar with a side of sugar cubes. But, in honor of Gemma's birthday, I finished almost everything. I'm sure Aunt Jemima, Mrs. Butterworth and Betty would have been proud. And Nonna Rina, too.
