Love that story. Everyone's gravy was the best, as was my Mom's, and I still make it the way she did!
Every grandpa's home made wine was the best. I remember the huge oak barrel in the cellar that held my grandpa's wine and the first thing he did when company came was to go down and turn the spigot on and came up with a bottle of his wine for them to drink. He grew his own grapes. Another thought came forward in my mind was the "a" added after the words. My brother and I listened to the radio broadcast of Jack Armstrong the all American Boy every day. My grandfather used to repeat the announcer with a chuckle "JACKA ARMESTRONGA THE ALL AMERICANA BOYA" So many wonderful memories.
Ed, of course your grandmothers' meatballs were the best, yes Eda-wood don't eat meatballs anywhere else. I detect much pride in her meatballs and gravy and the hours of love and labor that went into making them.
Yes, the meatball sandwich was a tradition especially for the Italians. My mother came from Italy, Salerno region 1915 at age 11 and raised five boys and we would take a few off the plate before they went into the gravy. Oh, so good.
Yes, the Welcome Cafe, and Mainelli's where I had a few with an ice-cold beer with a meatball sandwich. Aunt Emma's mention by one of your posters a step away from Mainelli's had a beautiful steak sandwich and custard pie that you would kill for. Aunt Emma's moved to Johnston in the 1960S and became the Little Inn.
Imagine The Welcome & Mainelli's . . . neighborhood places in walking distance serving first-class food. Both were iconic destinations. We were lucky to have them nearby.
So, you cheated and you ate Grandma's fried meatballs before they went into the gravy, they were that good. Devil!
I can't believe I once ordered it on a first date in high school,. 'You ordered that," she said. It was our last date. Maybe because she saw me drooling over the wrong thing.
You've got some balls, my friend. Growing up in a Jewish family, the only balls that were served often were matzah balls floating in a sea of thin, but tasty, broth (Jewish "gravy"). However, I, too, enjoy a great meatball sandwich. When I feel energetic, I refrain from commercial sauces and go back to the basic cooking of a good "gravy" with fresh ingredients. That is an act of love that warms the stomach and nourishes the soul.
This brings back similar memories. My grandmother would give me a meatball before Sunday dinner, but if my grandfather try to grab one from the stove she would yell at him...
Happy to see you are writing again, Dr. Ed! Your stories back memories of my childhood growing up in an Italian American household. My Grandparents immigrated from Amalfi (maternal) & Scafati (paternal).
Absolutely correct! Today, we are having meatball sandwiches….great memories.
When I worked at Mt. Pleasant Phcy., Anthony Curreri, one of the two Anthony’s , would send me to Mieneli’s for meatball or steak sandwiches. I had to compete with the Triggs golfers at the time.
If I couldn’t get in, there was Aunt Emma’s Steak House across the street.
The memoirs are as fresh today as when they took place, a “few” years ago.
I hope you and your family are well and we enjoy your writings…..
Another one of your interesting stories that brings back a wonderful memory of my childhood. Not being Italian, my mother only made meatballs and spaghetti occasionally. One of my favorite lunches was a meatball sandwich on a torpedo roll that I would get from the Welcome Restaurant on Chalkstone Ave. I would walk over there from my house on Canton St. I walked around to the side entrance that went into the bar area. The bartender would say "what do you want kid". I would say a meatball sandwich and he would speak into a small brown two-way radio on the bar. "One meatball sandwich to go". I'd wait for a few minutes and out it would come in a brown paper bag, I would walk home and savor that delicious smell all the way until I got to the kitchen table and began to feast on my meatball sandwich. This whole wonderful experience only cost 15 cents, back in the late 40's, early 50's.
A number of years back I was standing at a food truck in Washington DC. The guy in front of me orders a “sangwich”. I asked him where in Rhode Island he was from? He replied, “How’d you know I’m from Rhode Island? I told him I just had a hunch when you ordered a “sangwich”. He smiled and said he was from Cranston. Enjoyed your story very much.
Ed, you makka me so hungary now. I’ma gonna now makka my sauce anda meataballs. 😋🤣
What's your address?
Email?
Kidding. I was thinking of your home address so I could stop by for a meatball sandwich.
😂 sure, anytime however I now live in Fl 🤣
Overnight mail?
🤣🤣
A bit slow
I MAKE THE BEST MEATBALLS!! We are possive of what we cook. Love my gravy and meatballs
I'm in. Call anytime.
Love that story. Everyone's gravy was the best, as was my Mom's, and I still make it the way she did!
Every grandpa's home made wine was the best. I remember the huge oak barrel in the cellar that held my grandpa's wine and the first thing he did when company came was to go down and turn the spigot on and came up with a bottle of his wine for them to drink. He grew his own grapes. Another thought came forward in my mind was the "a" added after the words. My brother and I listened to the radio broadcast of Jack Armstrong the all American Boy every day. My grandfather used to repeat the announcer with a chuckle "JACKA ARMESTRONGA THE ALL AMERICANA BOYA" So many wonderful memories.
This is a beautiful note sharing cherished memories, Natalie. Thank you. I wish you would write your book.
Now I'm hungry for a meetball sang-weech. Yum,yum. JC YUILL
Well???
Ed, of course your grandmothers' meatballs were the best, yes Eda-wood don't eat meatballs anywhere else. I detect much pride in her meatballs and gravy and the hours of love and labor that went into making them.
Yes, the meatball sandwich was a tradition especially for the Italians. My mother came from Italy, Salerno region 1915 at age 11 and raised five boys and we would take a few off the plate before they went into the gravy. Oh, so good.
Yes, the Welcome Cafe, and Mainelli's where I had a few with an ice-cold beer with a meatball sandwich. Aunt Emma's mention by one of your posters a step away from Mainelli's had a beautiful steak sandwich and custard pie that you would kill for. Aunt Emma's moved to Johnston in the 1960S and became the Little Inn.
Imagine The Welcome & Mainelli's . . . neighborhood places in walking distance serving first-class food. Both were iconic destinations. We were lucky to have them nearby.
So, you cheated and you ate Grandma's fried meatballs before they went into the gravy, they were that good. Devil!
Ed,
You made me drool as you spoke of your meatball sandwich with mozzarella. Yummy.
Carol
I can't believe I once ordered it on a first date in high school,. 'You ordered that," she said. It was our last date. Maybe because she saw me drooling over the wrong thing.
Excellent! I shouldn't, however, read this at 7:30 in the morning...long time 'til dinner!
Funny. And give me a good reason why you can't have a meatball sandwich at 7:30 AM.
You've got some balls, my friend. Growing up in a Jewish family, the only balls that were served often were matzah balls floating in a sea of thin, but tasty, broth (Jewish "gravy"). However, I, too, enjoy a great meatball sandwich. When I feel energetic, I refrain from commercial sauces and go back to the basic cooking of a good "gravy" with fresh ingredients. That is an act of love that warms the stomach and nourishes the soul.
You know, Larry, you nailed it. It is an act of love.
Ah yes !!! I swear I can smell the aroma of my Nonna's kitchen right now.
An aroma that makes you what you are today!
This brings back similar memories. My grandmother would give me a meatball before Sunday dinner, but if my grandfather try to grab one from the stove she would yell at him...
Now, I wish I made a gravy this weekend.
Grandma's meatballs. The key to your success, Eh?
Happy to see you are writing again, Dr. Ed! Your stories back memories of my childhood growing up in an Italian American household. My Grandparents immigrated from Amalfi (maternal) & Scafati (paternal).
Thank you, Joanne. I encourage you to write your story.
nothing better!
The key to success is The Meatball Sandwich.
Nothing like a good meatball sangweech on a Buono’s Bakery roll, the best!! Grandmas were the best cooks too!!
I can taste it.
Absolutely correct! Today, we are having meatball sandwiches….great memories.
When I worked at Mt. Pleasant Phcy., Anthony Curreri, one of the two Anthony’s , would send me to Mieneli’s for meatball or steak sandwiches. I had to compete with the Triggs golfers at the time.
If I couldn’t get in, there was Aunt Emma’s Steak House across the street.
The memoirs are as fresh today as when they took place, a “few” years ago.
I hope you and your family are well and we enjoy your writings…..
Be well…..
Thanks, Ed. Ah, Yes, Mainelli's. A destination.
Another one of your interesting stories that brings back a wonderful memory of my childhood. Not being Italian, my mother only made meatballs and spaghetti occasionally. One of my favorite lunches was a meatball sandwich on a torpedo roll that I would get from the Welcome Restaurant on Chalkstone Ave. I would walk over there from my house on Canton St. I walked around to the side entrance that went into the bar area. The bartender would say "what do you want kid". I would say a meatball sandwich and he would speak into a small brown two-way radio on the bar. "One meatball sandwich to go". I'd wait for a few minutes and out it would come in a brown paper bag, I would walk home and savor that delicious smell all the way until I got to the kitchen table and began to feast on my meatball sandwich. This whole wonderful experience only cost 15 cents, back in the late 40's, early 50's.
Yes, indeed, The Welcome Cafe. One of the top places in the world for a meatball sandwich in our youth. And right there in our neighborhood, Ed.
A number of years back I was standing at a food truck in Washington DC. The guy in front of me orders a “sangwich”. I asked him where in Rhode Island he was from? He replied, “How’d you know I’m from Rhode Island? I told him I just had a hunch when you ordered a “sangwich”. He smiled and said he was from Cranston. Enjoyed your story very much.
Thanks, Ron. There are books written about the origin of languages. You should write one about Rhode Island-ese.
If not, it may be lost forever.