My apron tells a story…..
Don’t ask me how I got to this from my Weight Watchers meeting this morning. I am a Weight watchers member and in about 8 more pounds may become a lifetime member. The leader we have, Chris, is spectacular. She gives her heart and soul to us and worries about each one of us. Having a weight “problem” is a lifetime journey, as Chris calls it, and takes time and patience to get to goal. Like she says, “no one got here eating too many tomatoes!”
That brought me to Italian food, which brought me to cooking, which ultimately brought me to my apron. I do not wash my apron. I know that sounds gross but it tells a story. Every cookie, bread, pasta and batch of sauce I have made lives on that apron. The Christmas Eve that my husband sliced his finger open, I was making Italian Hummus; the Easter Bunny cake, that frankly looked possessed, has that purple frosting stained into that apron’s memory. Now of course, I have washed it, but the real story-teller stains remain behind. Thank you Chris for making me think of my wonderful apron (and the memories) on this very rainy and gloomy day. I should also thank Zabar’s in NYC for making such a spectacular apron that has lasted me all these years.
My brother-in-law sings a mean version of “That’s Amore” by Dean Martin while hand rolling meatballs in his “Ginny-T” or what we call a “you-pin-a-jid” (phonetically). I do not know if that is a real Italian word or just one my family has always used. Those stains are on there as well, and after a few glasses of Prosecco, you may not notice those stains at all!