For Sip..................

Sons' of Italy

I got very drunk at a Sons' of Italy dinner in Roseberg, Oregon one time with my best friend Chris Jannelli. God bless, what a dinner. Real Italians. The ladies made 10,000 ravioli, ministroni soup, lotsa lazzonnia, spamoni ice cream for desert. My soon to be ex-wife got very mad at me. I had a great time.

My real surname is "Wienertini" but I couldn't get a date. So we shortened the name to Wienert. Please excuse the spelling.
 
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My grandparents, on both sides, were boat jumpers from Ireland in 1923. Now, if you've traveled to Boston, Phillie, NYC, etc., you'll notice that the Irish Bowery always backs up on the Little Italy section. I grew up eating more pasta than spuds. At Christmas time, when I was little, a very nice man would come to the door on Christmas Eve and my Dad's Mom would give him a shot of whiskey and he would give her an envelope with money in it. It seemed like an awful lot of money, but was probably $10-$20 (in 1954-55'ish). She always said, "Nollaig shona duit" and he always replied "buone natalie" (sp.) Whenever I asked her what the money was for, she simply hushed me. I know now that the Italians were showing respect to my Gran for two reasons: She was a widow and her husband was Sian Padraig O'Fallon, an aide to Gen. Michael Collins.

Irish cooking is bland and rather horrible (I've been there quite a number of times) - but, Italian? Mmmmmmmmmmm, it's heaven!
 
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