Our paper reviewed the new sit-down restaurant More Perreca's. Irv's review had my mouth watering, so I checked the place out last week.
Friday's special was in my sights: half a roasted chicken, roasted potatoes (both with Italian seasoning), some peas, a side of escarole and garlic and a small hunk of Perreca's (Schenectady shorthand for “a piece of Italian bread”) to mop up whatever didn't make it to your mouth the first time. A very generous serving of all, so I split it with Irv. What a bargain. And what a lunch.
So I grabbed the menu and thought, “Wow, what else can I eat?” (a common thought that runs through my head.) I'll be back today for their Wednesday special, braciola stuffed with pineoli (pine nuts), raisins, egg and grated cheese, again, with a choice of sides and another small hunk of Perreca's. Honestly, I didn't even know what braciola were (click here to find out more) but the filling sounded so great, it has to be good, right? I can't wait until lunchtime.
This past Saturday's lunch was courtesy of my local Italian grocery store, Roma's. I had a craving for a mixed Italian sub, so I indulged. Worth every bite and every last calorie. No surprise.
It made me think about having a “Mixed Italian Sub Off.” Get all the Italian groceries/delis to whip up their best shot and have a taste test. Sell tickets. Raise money for charity. Whatever. Winner gets bragging rights. And I would humbly volunteer my time as a judge.
Of course, all this delicious Italian food gets me thinking about my dad who passed away about a year ago. A southern Italian man through and through (Calabrese, to be exact), he loved Roma's and would have loved all the great stuff at More Perreca's. I just walk into those places and the smell – you know that Italian deli smell - just makes me happy and think of him.
It's funny. When I go to Saratoga National Cemetary and visit his grave, I don't really get any feeling that he is there. Sure, the small wooden box with his ashes is interred in the columbaria niche along with my mom, but when I go there, he's not there.
But when I walk into an Italian deli to get something good to eat... that's the story. He's right there with me, smiling and nodding his head when I make my choices. I can just see him. It's such a happy, comforting feeling. For me, it's just one more reason to pick up some grated cheese, or get a slice of tomato pie, or, like today, go get some braciola. Whatever that is.
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