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Posts Tagged ‘Italian’

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I was prop designer recently for a show that takes place in a house garage, and the main two characters were an Italian father and son from blue-collar Providence, RI. At one point during the show, the son asks his assistant what she wants for dinner, and the father suggests she get “a ‘One and One’—half meatball, half sausage—the best of both worlds.”

I made the “sandwiches” for the show by rolling old t-shirts up and wrapping them in butcher paper. But the notion of that sandwich, a real one, invaded my waking and non-waking thoughts until last Friday, when I finally made it for myself. I bought the roll, hot sausage, and Fontina (a riff off mozzarella, and a solid one). I made the meatballs and heated up the last of the tomato sauce from last summer’s crop. And of course I toasted the roll.

I was heading in to work another show that morning and it was a great late breakfast. Convention goes right out the window when you have a long and physical day ahead. That dude held me till mid-afternoon.

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The set of the show. The car (an actual 1967 Jaguar sedan) and a few other pieces were provided by our incredible set designer, but virtually everything else is me–found, borrowed, or created. I tell people I’m a professional seagull.

Oh, and if you want to giggle, it wasn’t just a half-and-half kind of day with regard to sandwiches. Theatre life being what it is (read: wildly nit-picky directors and loony hours), laundry tends to take a backseat. On Friday I looked in my sock drawer for matching knee-high pantyhose and instead found one charcoal and one tan. That made two secrets, along with the Italian sub I’d eaten for breakfast.

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When the world got to be too much for Holly Golightly, she went to Tiffany’s. Ishmael went to sea. Me, I go to Trader Joe’s just because I know the guy behind the register will take the shopping basket right out of my hand and pack everything up himself. And he’ll grin the whole time, and say the corn chips I am buying are his current addiction.

Sure it’s summer, but that doesn’t automatically mean comfort sits in our laps every day, all day. Sometimes, like today, which must be the 17th sticky, grey day in a row, we need to seek out (or barring that, to remember) the stuff that makes us grin like a Trader Joe’s cashier. Here are some of my favorites.

1) Listening to a farmer describe how she relaxes after a long, hot day at the market: she goes inside her barn, turns on the fan, and cracks open a cold beer.

2) Choosing the tightest, smoothest, rosiest heirloom tomatoes for my favorite summer sandwich: sliced on bread smeared with mayonnaise, sprinkled with salt, and summarily devoured.

3) Watching shaggy-haired groms—that’s pre-teen surfers—skateboarding to the beach with a slice of pizza poised in one hand and a bottle of Coke in the other.

4) Seeing local theatre productions that are big enough to attract extraordinary talent but small enough that afterward you can meet and shake the hands of the actors.

5) Having a teatime treat of cherries (or peaches, or blueberries) with a drizzle of real cream.

6) Visiting a local farm and having your zucchini weighed on an ancient scale.

7) Watching dogs on the beach, wet from seawater, tear up and down the beach as they follow their surfing owners.

8) Going to the boardwalk and being handed a sopping, sloppy hot sausage sandwich with absolutely no pretense.

9) Being at the beach to witness the sunset bathing everything for miles in palest pink.

10) Strolling the midway at the Italian-American festival in Oakhurst, NJ every August for the food, rides and more of my cousins on one acre than anyplace else on earth.

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