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Narrative Paper - Fidati 1 Hannah Fidati English 1101 Ms...

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Fidati 1 Hannah Fidati English 1101 Ms. Nadon Food Memory 11 February 2010 Memories Surpass Circumstance It was a beautiful spring day at the Fidati house, the smell of fresh coffee and homemade bruschetta filled the air as the sound of laughter and joy satisfied the ears. It was a morning of rare occasion, as I sat around our small kitchen table with my grandma and two aunts, Aunt Fran and Aunt Patricia. They had just flown in from Chicago to come visit our family. It had been ten years since their last visit to our home in Georgia. Their inability to come visit was a result of my grandma’s slow progression of Dementia. She had a tendency to lose her train of thought easily, which left her unable to move or get around as well. That, however, would not spoil this cherished visit from being something special, for we all knew that it could very well be her last visit with us. As the three generation of Mariotti women sat around the table, my mother asked my aunts and grandma what they would like to do with their first day in town. Our thoughts of shopping, food, and going to the spa were amongst the top contenders. Being stubborn, hot- headed, Italian women, we each vocalized our different opinions and discovered that none of us
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Fidati 2 wanted to back down from what we thought would be the best family outing. However, it was finally my grandma, who spoke up and voiced her opinion, “We should cook,” she said. Confused and puzzled, we all stared at her. We asked her what she meant by this, for surely she did not want to cook all day especially with it being their first day in town. “What do you mean, Mama?” asked Aunt Fran. She took a moment to collect her thoughts, and then with a tender voice she replied, “I want to share with you my secret recipes that I cooked for many, many years. I was taught by my own mama, and now I shall teach you.” We weren’t about to turn down such an offer, so with a caring smile on Aunt Fran’s face, she grabbed grandma’s hand and sweetly said to her, “Okay, cooking it will be then.” As we all huddled into our tiny kitchen, we tied on our pure white smocks, pulled back our dark hair, rolled up our sleeves, and started cooking.
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