By: Louise Ricci Mulgrew, La Nostra Voce 

Christmas Eve celebrations in Italian families are legendary for the amount of food, fun and, of course, faith.  And by faith, I mean a trip to church for Midnight Mass.  But let’s get back to the food.  With the exception of an Italian wedding, you’ll not see this much food at any other time of the year.

It’s a pescatarian feast with every kind of fish and seafood known to man.  It’s known as Il Cenone di Vigilia, the feast of the seven fishes, but there are often more than seven courses.  In my family, everyone’s favorite dish was always the salted cod called Baccala.  And boy, could it stink up your house.  You can imagine my Irish American husband’s reaction at his first Christmas Eve dinner tra famiglia at my mother’s house with all of this strange and exotic food.

It was also our first Christmas as a family.  We had just had our first daughter, who was about 9 months old at the time.  And boy, was she energized by all the festivities.  She sat on my lap watching the comings and goings of friends and family throughout the night.  She ripped open presents, she clapped and she sang.  But she didn’t eat a thing.

I definitely knew that she was her father’s daughter when she turned up her nose at every appetizer I put before her.  My husband looked at her and nodded in sympathy as he waited for the main course of stuffed lobster.

But my mother was adamant about not putting out any main dishes until my brother, Tony, arrived.  After all she said this was “his day.”  Carmen, just finishing his second bowl of calamari in brodo, looked at her skeptically.  It was getting late and we were still waiting for the guest of honor.  It was strange that he wasn’t home yet.

And just as we were about to dig into the main dishes, the front, back and side doors burst open.  And we all jumped as three men entered the house.  I’d like to tell you they were the three wise men but they were not — it was law enforcement.  I presumed they were U.S. Marshals from the six-pointed star badges they wore.  The irony of it made me laugh as I looked at the star on top of the Christmas tree.

Up until this time I had no idea that my brother was involved in anything other than a floating crap game.  My husband and brother, Carmen, were a bit wiser but thought it best not to worry me.

When they asked my mother if she knew Tony’s whereabouts, my mother was as stunned as I was.  And so she said the first thing that came to mind: “Try church.”

Satisfied that Tony was not in the house the men left as abruptly as they came.  Our festa was ruined.  Tony was missing and everyone was upset, everyone except for my daughter who didn’t have a clue as to what had just happened and didn’t care.

Many years later she and I were talking about all of the fuss that goes into making baby’s first Christmas a special event these days.  And even though she doesn’t remember it, she laughs when she thinks about her first Christmas.  And to make me feel better she likes to tell me, “I’d rather have a good story than some silly ornament that puts in an appearance once a year.”

I never needed an ornament to tell her that to me she was a star.  Shine on!

This article first appeared in La Nostra Voce, ISDA’s monthly newspaper, that chronicles Italian life, culture and traditions. Make the ISDA pledge and subscribe today.