When I was a kid growing up in Fort Lee, N. J., we kept an Italian-Sicilian-American household. By that I mean we were thoroughly Americanized, but we also observed many of the old European traditions. And of these none were more treasured and eagerly anticipated by my sister, brother, and I than Christmas Eve. It was an evening filled with food, laughter, light, and love. For today’s column, I’d like to focus on the food because through it the others will be revealed.
It has become widely known that many Italians, particularly those Southern Italians, serve a meal consisting solely of seafood on Christmas Eve. The tradition of “The Feast of the Seven Fishes” as it came to be known here, was popularized during the time the so-called Mediterranean Diet also became “A Thing” in American pop culture. At our place, we simply called it “eating.” But The Seven Fishes as a prescribed number and type of seafood served is really an American adaption of Southern Italian families simply consuming a fish dinner, i.e. sans meat on the Eve. In Sicily it is known as “La Vigilia” or “keeping a vigil” for the impending birth of Jesus and is an extension of the Pascal tradition of abstaining from eating meat at certain times. The “Seven Fishes” label came with American consumerism.
At our home, there was no fixed number associated with what we would eat that evening. However, one thing was certain; it would be a REAL feast. My mother would shop for days to get only the freshest seafood. Then she would spend the entire day preparing the meal. We may have had seven fish dishes, or it may have been a little less, but it was always DELICIOUS! No matter what the actual number it turned out to be, the meal always contained these classics: calamari – fried/sauteed, mussels – fra diavolo, shrimp -raw/scampi/breaded, filet of sole – Francese style, clams – oreganato/with linguine and, of course, my mother’s favorite, Bacala, a.k.a salted cod.
The house smelled like heaven for hours!
As I got older, our place was also the hottest ticket in town for friends lucky enough to get an invite. One who took particular pleasure in that invitation is a dear friend from my college days (I’ll protect his privacy and only use his first name). Jed and I were teammates on our particularly bad football team. However, he was an exceptionally good player on that otherwise terrible squad. And he was big – defensive lineman big – about 6’3” and 265 lbs. He could eat like it, too! Jed was also Jewish, so eating our place was a new, delightful cultural experience for him. Plus, the food was always great. I remember him dropping subtle hints weeks before the Eve just to see if there might be any room for him at our table. Of course, there always was. Even 40+ years later and living thousands of miles apart, we still speak of it. This is really the true spirit of the season. The food just pulled it all together.
After dallying over our fabulous meal, it was time to retire to the fake silver Christmas tree that graced our living room. Despite our protestations for a real tree, my mother refused saying they were too “messy”. So, at Christmas we took it out of the box in the cellar and assembled it in the same corner every year. Underneath, the neatly wrapped packages would soon be ravaged by my sister, brother, and I. You see, we simply couldn’t contain our excitement until Christmas DAY. THAT was not possible, especially for my sister Joanne. I think my brother Joseph and I may have been possibly convinced to wait until the morning, but our sister proved an irresistible force. And, what the heck, why not? Our parents were certainly not going to protest. It was a rare night for our version of indulgence.
It didn’t take long to open our presents as gift-giving was always very modest at our place. We received one gift each from our parents, one from our grandmothers (usually socks and underwear), and often one from our mother’s sister, Anna Maria. When we were old and able enough, we also exchanged some simple gifts as siblings. I often marveled at how extravagant other families were at the Holidays but that was not our way. For us, the greatest gift was always our togetherness.
After the frenzy, most of our energy was spent and more often than not, we simply went off to bed to dream of our new bounty waiting for us in the morning. These memories hopefully can never be erased. This year we’ll be having dinner together with my aunt and a few cousins at a fine restaurant in Brooklyn. Now we let others do the cooking. We’ll just make the memories.
Happy Holidays, everyone! No matter which one you choose to celebrate, I sincerely hope that it is spent in the warm glow of family and friends. And I hope you eat lots of fish on Christmas Eve too.
Frank LoBuono is a Nyack Resident, photographer, blogger and retired CBS News journalist.
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Photo credit: Frank LoBuono
