Di Meglio uses the written word to help families create memories and stick together. You can follow her on Facebook at Francesca’s Newlyweds Nest and on Twitter @ItalianMamma10.
Who says the sweet life is not without its challenges? This one is for the Italian Book of Boo Boos. Let’s call it Crusty Bread Scratch. My Italian mamma’s boy son, who had been attempting to eat an entire loaf of Italian bread, threw me onto the bed to give me a big hug and my elbow got cut by that crust. There’s something about a bread-related injury that has me quoting bread maker Ronny Cammareri from Moonstruck: “I looked the wrong way and I lost my hand. He could make you look the wrong way and you could lose your whole head!” Mine is just a simple scratch. But let us not forget Ronny’s warnings of the dangers of bad love and good bread.
Nonno – otherwise known as my father – loves to give his grandchildren a loaf of Italian bread each. He gets a kick out of how the two boys chew on it like it’s the greatest thing since, well, sliced bread. I know. I know. This is anti-everything healthy. But it’s so very Italian of us to hand our kids Italian bread as a snack. And ain’t nobody stoppin’ Nonno, although I’d love to see one of the moms in the Kale Chip Gestapo try. Now that would be a match for the ages!
Once these little guys are talking in complete sentences, their complaints about belly aches post bread will be very Italian, too. This week’s installment of Our Paesani on ItaliansRus will have you laughing out loud with its assessment of indigestion among Italians. It’s a cultural phenomenon, akin to Topo Gigio, that rarely gets the attention it deserves. So, grab your belly and hang on ’cause it’s going to be a bumpy ride.