Two ways to torture people you love

My family, like all of our families, have special and unique habits and rituals. Some of it is directly related to our heritage and upbringing and some is just weird stuff that grew out of who knows what.

I was reminded of this today at dinnertime. While my very delicious dinner of beef tenderloin tips and roasted vegetables was roasting...a new recipe that lived up to its description, by the way, I called my son in VA to say hello. Adam is a restaurant manager in a fine Italian restaurant and is a very good cook and has a sophisticated palate like his brother, cousins, aunts and well, not so much his uncle, who wont eat a lot of stuff we love (oh well, more for us). Adam and his friend (a NYer) were walking to get dinner. We chatted and he asked me what I was doing. I reported on the food roasting in the oven, he groaned/sighed and told his friend what I was making and then said something like, "noooooooooooooooooooo, that sounds really good."! OK, to be honest,it sounded exactly like that!

I laughed. I loved it. I was happy. A Mom always wants to know her kid likes her cooking.

We talked a minute more and then went our separate ways. Three minutes later when the buzzer buzzed I took the great meal out of the oven and realized I forgot to mention the bread. Warming in the oven was half a loaf of crusty, sesame seeded Caputo Bakery Bread. Crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside. Just thinking about it will cause all sorts of yearnings in some people. Nothing tastes like NY bread. It was gorgeous. I could not let this moment pass. I did what anyone would do. I called him back!; torture, Mom style. This time he said, "you're killing me, Mom". (hehehehe, victory!!).

Now the other method of torture we (we being Macaluso's) inflict on each other is special only to us. I have never, ever, heard of another tradition as lasting, respected or adhered to. Spitting. We "spit" on things to claim future ownership. After all, who would want something that someone else has spit on?

I have spit on artwork, pearls,furniture, oh, a variety of things; so has every single one of the people I am related to. "I spit on it" is actually a very common phrase in our family. It designates what will be ours, what we are left, what cannot be disputed.

The torture comes in when you realize that something you love or may want someday has already been spit on. You are out of luck. You lose.

Forever.


*(in the event that someone may not be believed notes have been attached to the backs of items that declare the spitee -- only a very dishonorable person would fight the spit AND the note)