My brother was not born until 1950, so I was an only child in the 40s. We lived in an apartment in my grandparents' house in a residential area of Brooklyn. All of my aunts, uncles and cousins lived within walking distance, so I was always surrounded by plenty of family members.
Growing up in an Italian household (grandma and grandpa came from Sicily) was a gastronomical adventure. My mother, father, grandparents and aunts, uncles and cousins all got together for Thanksgiving dinner. We started the meal with antipasto (an assortment of cheeses, salami, ham, roast beef, peppers and olives). This was followed by lasagna or some other type of macaroni dish, complete with meatballs and sausage. The roast turkey came next, served with homemade stuffing, sweet potatoes and a green vegetable. Dessert consisted of Italian pastries such as cannoli. Grandpa's homemade red vino was served with the meal. Dinner ended with servings of espresso laced with anisette liquor. I wasn't allowed to drink the wine or the espresso and that was OK with me. I didn't care for either of them.
Also, it was a day we dressed up in ragged clothes and went from house to house asking, "Anything for Thanksgiving?"
Looking back now, I realize we were poor, but never knew it. There was always plenty of love and food around at all times.
I thought that folks from other parts of the country and different ethnic groups would like to hear how a Brooklyn girl celebrated Thanksgiving.
