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Italian food


I was raised in Boulder, Colo., an area not renowned for coal mines, but there were small coal mines on the plains near Boulder. In one small town, Louisville, the vein of coal petered out unexpectedly, and the mine was shut down, putting the coal miners (most were Italian) out of work. I think the Great Depression was in full bloom, too. The women (it's always the women) tied their aprons, and one sought to buy out a sleazy bar in town. It had a large backroom and a fairly large area that could be used as a kitchen. They kept the name of the bar, and Mama Colacci hired all of the Italian women in town. They served spaghet and meat balls family style. Word got out, and lines formed. Seating was fairly limited, but people came from Boulder (about ten miles), other small towns and even Arvada and Denver to eat at the Blue Parrot. Homemade pasta, too. R & F Kluski noodles are as close to that homemade pasta as I've ever seen, but I haven't seen R & F commercial pasta for years. I wonder if they're still in business...Well, they prospered, the town was saved, and the Colacci family opened another restaurant, letting the kids run it. It was never as good as that at the Blue Parrot. Margaret L, salivating

Enough already, you guys are making me homesick for my childhood.  My
godmother was Sicilian and her food was so fantastic that her
sisters-in-law, such as my mother, promptly learned how to make her dishes
and then experimented marrying her ingredients and methods with those of
their own ethnic heritage (Portugal). We also had a large Northern Italian
community in town which meant fantastic delies as well as women who made
tortellinis at home for sale to selected clients.  My aunt always gave me a
juice glass of wine watered down with meals.

 Years later when I married, my restaurateur husband was always after my
mother to "come play" in our home kitchen.  She pretended it was a chore,
but she loved the flattery.  Even after I divorced, they would experiment
with food.  They really had a special bond.

If I could choose how I would die, it would be eating my way through Italy.
Yum.  I'd already be in heaven.
Janet


on 12/13/2002 5:01 AM, Peggy Elliott at pegster57@ntelos.net wrote:

> Ah, Tony, the best pizza is in **Chicago**.  ;^)
> -Peg
>
> ----- Original Message -----
> From: "Tony Veca" <romans8@attbi.com>
> To: <gardenchat@hort.net>
> Sent: Thursday, December 12, 2002 10:27 PM
> Subject: Re: [CHAT] tradition
>
>
>> Peggy - Now you're really making me sick for the "old" days. I haven't had
> a
>> good pizza since I moved to the west coast. I did make a couple of trips
>> back to NJ. I guess it was mainly for the food. My grandma passed on. But
>> there was a great pizza house in Garfield. I'm 100% Sicilian.
>>
>> Tony <><
>>
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