36. Emmy

To say that the relationship between my stepmother and I was a rocky one would be a grand understatement, but in the wake of my mom's passing and in light of me moving away, things have gotten much better between us. All that being said, despite the turbulence, the one thing we always bonded over was food.

When I was a kid we had this vegetable garden in the back yard that would yield enough tomatoes to sustain our family, and the families of my step mom's siblings for the entire fall season, with much to spare. From this, Emmy would make this amazing sauce. One one such year, I was milling about the kitchen while she was cooking. My dad and siblings weren't home so we were alone, a rare even for her and I. While I finished up what I was doing she pulled a block of Parmesan cheese from the fridge and a bowl from the cabinet. Holding them up as I was about to leave she asked me if I wanted any. I did, and sat down while she sliced the cheese, ladled some sauce in the bowl and passed it over to me. From there we spent the next half hour snacking and talking, mostly about food. With it rounding dinner time she promised she wouldn't tell my dad if I didn't have much of an appetite.

When dinner was ready (pasta with the fresh sauce) I took a smaller serving than normal and when my dad asked why she piped up,

"Oh Jess' stomach was acting up today," while smiling at me.


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During WWII, Fort Andrews on the now abandoned Peddock's Island, was used to house Italian POWs. Upon their first arrival, the Italians refused to eat the food the Americans cooked.

"They feed this to the pigs in Italy!" they scoffed.

Being that the Americans didn't have anything against the Italians really, they opted to give them their own garden and have them cook for themselves. If anything, they were glad that they didn't have to worry too much about feeding these people.

With Italian and American barracks being close by, the Americans started smelling the food being cooked in the opposing kitchen. A small group of American soldiers went over, leaving their pride in their rooms but bringing their plates and utensils, and asked if there were any leftovers. (Of course they did. They're Italians after all!) From then on, the food supply was shared between the two sides, with the Italians doing most of the cooking.

After the war, may of the Italian prisoners stayed, and moved to the North End of Boston. They still say that you can get the best Italian food outside if Italy there.

Nothing unifies quite like food.