I grew up just a Bigfoot Rides A Mountain Bike Shirt few blocks from Little Italy, in Erie, PA in the same house my father grew up in. We lived upstairs and my grandmother lived downstairs. All my life this home was the center of our extended family and still is, after 80 years. Every Sunday my two uncles and their families would come for Sunday dinner downstairs Mama’s house.
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My grandmother would make a Bigfoot Rides A Mountain Bike Shirt sauce for all 16 of us. The sauce is a euphemism for some kind of pasta either ravioli, fettuccine, or cavatelli all homemade. The sauce also implies all the fixings, including antipasto salad, meatballs, sauce pork, and wedding soup. Mama always had cookies too, usually knots, or fried cookies, or pies.
Chocolate or banana cream or Bigfoot Rides A Mountain Bike Shirt apple. For that many people, Mama made her pies in cookie sheets, not pie tins. The house always smelled like oregano, anise, and garlic. One of my earliest memories was being sent outside to pick some fresh mint for Mama’s cooking. I had no idea what to look for, so I picked a handful of everything. Mama would select the oregano mint from what I gathered and use it in her sauce.