ODE TO ITALIAN

It's been a long winter. Pat and I are wearing our Mama and Papa Bear physiques. (A nurse's aide told me "It's a mountain thang.") We have eaten well on these cold nights, and when the snow was at its worst, dishes like spaghetti and meatballs or lasagna filled the bill. I thought I would share a poem from my soon-to-be-published chapbook Blue egg, my heart, on the subject of Italian food because (1) It's one of the lighter poems, (2) I still need to drum up a bunch more pre-orders before April 15, and (3) I get to use cool clip art on this blog; most poetry presses frown on illustrations, unless you're A.A. Milne or Doctor Seuss.

Seasoning

a pantoum in honor of the Casa Sorelle (house of the sisters), 1970s Italian eating place in Providence, RI

 

Garlic, you have a bulbous end

like the rumps of the sisters at Casa Sorelle

and your neck is thin as the small skinny chef

who minded their gravy and seasoned it well.

Like the broad hips of ladies at Casa Sorelle,

you are the essence of well-loved cuisine:

Bolognese, marinara, simmering sauces, 

O essential ingredient in every tureen.

You’re the touchstone of memory, well-loved cuisine:

like Chianti, checked table cloths, Hope Street in fall,

where, appetite whetted by fragrances keen,

I waited to savor the thrill of it all --

It was there at the Casa on Hope Street in fall,

that I learned to mop sauce with fresh ciabatta

and drank wine and enchantment at family tables:

Saccocia, Ligouri, Ianucci, Lamotta.

I wiped my plate clean with some crisp ciabatta

far from Wonder Bread, Skippy (those ghosts of my youth).

Alfredo, Al dente, Pomidori, Ricotta --

my rescue from WASP foods, educated my mouth.

Far from Jello molds, hot dogs, and canned lima beans,

a menu of passionate choices is mine,

informed by your wisdom, so ancient and deep,

small cloves in a bundle, seasoning divine.  

 A palette of flavors grows sweeter with thyme

like the sisters and chef at the Casa Sorelle:

robust and steady grace notes in the wine

round at the bottom, sound as a bell.

copyright cathy larson sky, 2014

(Instructions on how to order the chapbook are in the McCotta's Blog entry for last month. Thanks from the bottom of my heart if you have already pre-ordered; it makes all the difference as far as demonstrating a readership to my publisher, Finishing Line Press.) 

HAPPY SPRING!