Costantini Elisa - Italian moms: something old, something new: 150 family recipes

Of all the things I ever imagined doing in my life, I can honestly say that writing a cookbook, let alone two, was not among them. If I look back over the past couple of years since Italian Moms: Spreading Their Art to Every Table was published, however, I quickly realize that this whole journey fits a recurring theme in my lifeI tend to go into things kicking and screaming, only to come out the other side much happier and appreciative of the bounties I received along the way. What they say about hindsightthat you only appreciate what you have looking back on it from the perspective of a later timeis true. Yet, looking backward can also be dangerous. You could look back, reflect on all the work it took to get there, and wonder if you would ever do it again, given the chance. Such a stance might stop you from moving forward, even if you truly got to a much better place despite all the hard work.

My work on Italian Moms is a good example, and so is the story of my time here in America. As readers of my previous book know, I was a reluctant immigrant who came to appreciate life in my adopted country only much later in life. I could easily look back over the period of time from the moment I stepped off the SS Independence, in 1961, to today, catalog all the hard times and sorrows that life entailed, and regret that the journey ever took place. But to do so would also erase all the fond memories of time spent with cherished loved ones; it would mean vanquishing from thought both the small and large moments of joy involving my family; and most of all, it would mean ignoring the fact that, after all is said and done, and despite all the ups and downs, I have lived a terrific life.

If I look at the time spent working on my first cookbook, I can likewise reflect on all the hard work and the strangeness of a process that was contrary to my naive sensibilities. But, to do so would mean erasing the joy and fun I had collaborating with my son Frank; it would mean never giving myself the chance to recall the stories of my life that were conjured up in the process; and it would mean ignoring the blessings that the book brought into my life since it became a reality.

And those blessings have been many! After I lost my dear husband, Francesco, on Christmas Eve in 2013, I was deeply despondent. After what seemed like a lifetime of struggle, the blow of losing my cherished husband seemed just too much to handle. To say that I was ready to give up is perhaps an understatement. I stopped cooking, and, frankly, I stopped even trying.

But then Frank, began to push me to work on Italian Moms. At first, it was a way for us to spend time together, and as the stories of my life were put down on paper, the book was transformed into a family legacy projectequal parts memoir and recipe collection. Then, after more than eight hundred strangers reached out to sponsor a crowd-funding page we had started on the Internet, working on the cookbook became a way to pay back the kindness of strangers. Over time, obligation morphed into joy as the tone of the stories I told my son changed from sadness to funny anecdotes and happy reflections on a life spent with my love and best friend, Francesco. Even if the book had never been published, the ability to relive those stories would have sufficed to make all the work worthwhile.

But then the book was published, and, oh, how the blessings rolled in! The process of working on it helped heal my aching heart, but little did I know that these were only the first steps in my journey. As we waited for the books to arrive, a school approached us to help with an event. The name of that school, St. Francis de Salles School, was too similar to my late husbands, Francesco, to ignore that good things were on the way. That simple request led to several more, including many unexpected opportunities, like an invitation to teach cooking classes in Tuscany. Over the months, as our mailbox filled with an increasing number of requests for recipes, general well wishes, and compliments for inspiring other seniors to be active and not give up, I felt reborn. A great many of these letters expressed thanks for preserving the almost lost art of cooking. Countless people told me that they wished they had collected their mothers and grandmothers recipes before they passed. At last, and most unexpectedly, I had found a new purpose for my life.

When the opportunity to put together a second cookbook came around, it all seemed less strange and more purposeful. As I started to gather recipes to include, I found myself reflecting again on the idea of looking backward to find the inspiration to journey forward, to honor tradition while embarking on the unknown journey that is life. I feel I have learned a great deal since the first Italian Moms. This time, there was much less kicking and screaming during the process, and I actually appreciated the chance to once again share my version of home cooking, influenced by my childhood in Abruzzi.