From my friend, Bob Aldrich "I can picture Peter's plunge into the pickled peppers and wonder how many pickled peppers did plunging Peter pluck from the pickle pepper plunge??"
Love this story! We also had a cellar in our house . It too, had wooden steps leading down into a kitchen area where my grandfather had his wood /coal stove, which he kept going through the Winter months. This is where he kept a pot of coffee cooking all day, which was very black by late afternoon. When my brother came home from school when it was cold, we would go downstairs and grandpa ,who we called Zione, would pour each of us a cup of that coffee without milk which we used to put spoonsful of sugar in each cup. Zione would then get his round loaf of Italian bread and tuck it under his chin and cut it with a sharp knife and give each of us a large piece, and we dunked it in our coffee. We loved and enjoyed it as long as it lasted. When my Mom heard after a month or so, she was so angry that he was giving us not only the blackest coffee but also all the sugar we were using, she yelled at my grandfather in Italian, which we did not understand and that put an end to our warm treat.
It was, I suppose! it had linoleum on floor and a huge black stove which my grandfather had a tool that lifted the round pieces to place the wood and coal in for heating. He also had an wooden ice box in the kitchen area which the ice man used to deliver large blocks of ice to keep food cold. He also had a step-up area which led up to the sink and a gas stove to use in the summer. There were 2 doors which led to concrete cellars. One was where the coal bin was and my grandpa had his wine making equipment. A huge oak barrel with a spigot for filling a pitcher. The other the other door was my pop's cellar where he made Adirondack chairs for summer sitting. He also made a great shoeshine box for my brother and, as he worked for a leather findings store, he filled it with the best polish, brushes, etc. and my brother gave the best shoeshines and had a lot of loyal customers on Charles Street! My Pop could build anything he put his mind to. Oh those were the best of times. Although it was during depression times We never wanted for anything.
I have a question for you and I hope you will be able to help. My grandfather
came to the USA through Ellis Island without his family and I have that information. When I looked for information about my grandmother and the rest of the family, there is no record of them coming through Ellis Island. I know there were many Italian families arriving through the port in RI and she came with her children a girl and two boys. Do you know how I can find any information about arrivals through RI landings? I know she came after my grandfather, who was met by a relative who was living here already and lived with his family on Marietta Street, in Providence. I have census records that confirm the birth of other children after she arrived, one of which was my mom! My grandfather must have worked and paid for his family to come here. They were able to buy land and build the house that I and my brother Jim were born in. I would like to know about the boat the arrived in and the date they arrived.
Good one, Ed! Sounds almost exactly the way the cellar looked in our house down on Rill Street. No locks on doors. No secrets. My grandpa was a barber so he kept a chair in his room where the guys in the family all got their haircuts. The coal bin was directly under my bedroom; fortunately the floors were solid and the coal dust stayed in the cellar! We had a dilapidated wine press, but no pickling jar. You made me laugh when you said Peter's boots mummified! I guess all the old 3-deckers in the neighborhood were built to a fairly common pattern. Many are gone now, ours burned to the ground a few years after we and all my relatives had moved away. Yours still stands!
Pickled peppers are a staple at every Italian holiday in our family. Mom (who is French Canadian) and dad pickled every fall, not only to have them as part of our antipasto, but to give as gifts to extended members of the family. As dad is turning 91 in June and mom 90 this month, last year was the first time they did not pickle any and it made me sad. After reading this, I am committed to doing it with them this September so I can continue the tradition. Seems all the family recipes have fallen to me. Some day you should write about the Italian Wedding Soup, the artichokes, etc.
The memories of the cellar were sweet - mine were from my Memere and Pepere's house.
Love your story, Dianne, and I'm happy that I rekindled your memories. A common refrain as I attacked the pickled peppers off the antipasto dish was, "Stop eating them. You'll fill up. There's more food coming."
Your stories are the best! Though I am not Italian, I grew up (till 10 years old) in a 3 decke, coal down the chute to the basement. We had a Vulcan heater for hot water. Wish we had your pickled peppers, but we got our dill pickles from the deli. Keep sharing! 🥰
I'll never forget your story when someone tries to recite the "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers." You also made me think of the cowboy outfit and matching guns holstered I wore to fight off Indians and outlaws. I'm tempted to meet you at high noon on any street you choose, or get my other "set of irons" to meet on any golf course of your choice.
Who delivered oil to your house? My husband's father, Romeo Romano, had an oil delivery business. Do you remember Miss Migliori, the piano teacher on Wealth Ave? I remember Peter from GW West Jr. High, but that was AFTER his pickling experience?
Brings back memories of our 3-decker! Our assigned storage room had a coal bin where coal was dumped through the window and my brother Paul got to shovel it in a pail and bring it up to our second floor apartment to keep us warm. Paul loved that basement…spent many hours creating a rustic manger for Christmas. He saved his paperboy money to buy the figurines to fill it at the 5 and 10. My mother cherished that crèche and now Paul’s daughter has it. Rest in Peace Paul.
The main part of the cellar held our wagons and bicycles. My sister Nancy loved to scare me saying rats were down there. I moved like lightening when I went down there to retrieve my blue Schwinn bike…best childhood Christmas gift I ever received… and I won it from Duffy’s Drug Store!
You bring out the best in me, Ed! Thanks for the memories!
Brought back memories of the cellar in my childhood triple decker home. Nonno's grape press, jugs of wine, and vats of it left to ferment into vinegar, the travel trunk, black cast iron stove where tomatoes were cooked down and the sauce was bottled. Fun times playing with friends in that dark, scary, cellar!
From my friend, Bob Aldrich "I can picture Peter's plunge into the pickled peppers and wonder how many pickled peppers did plunging Peter pluck from the pickle pepper plunge??"
Elsie, I don't know who delivered the oil, but I certainly remember Ms. Migliori.
Thanks for your nice note
Love this story! We also had a cellar in our house . It too, had wooden steps leading down into a kitchen area where my grandfather had his wood /coal stove, which he kept going through the Winter months. This is where he kept a pot of coffee cooking all day, which was very black by late afternoon. When my brother came home from school when it was cold, we would go downstairs and grandpa ,who we called Zione, would pour each of us a cup of that coffee without milk which we used to put spoonsful of sugar in each cup. Zione would then get his round loaf of Italian bread and tuck it under his chin and cut it with a sharp knife and give each of us a large piece, and we dunked it in our coffee. We loved and enjoyed it as long as it lasted. When my Mom heard after a month or so, she was so angry that he was giving us not only the blackest coffee but also all the sugar we were using, she yelled at my grandfather in Italian, which we did not understand and that put an end to our warm treat.
Wow, great story, Natalie. Your cellar was upscale!
It was, I suppose! it had linoleum on floor and a huge black stove which my grandfather had a tool that lifted the round pieces to place the wood and coal in for heating. He also had an wooden ice box in the kitchen area which the ice man used to deliver large blocks of ice to keep food cold. He also had a step-up area which led up to the sink and a gas stove to use in the summer. There were 2 doors which led to concrete cellars. One was where the coal bin was and my grandpa had his wine making equipment. A huge oak barrel with a spigot for filling a pitcher. The other the other door was my pop's cellar where he made Adirondack chairs for summer sitting. He also made a great shoeshine box for my brother and, as he worked for a leather findings store, he filled it with the best polish, brushes, etc. and my brother gave the best shoeshines and had a lot of loyal customers on Charles Street! My Pop could build anything he put his mind to. Oh those were the best of times. Although it was during depression times We never wanted for anything.
We're you a shoeshine girl? Ha
Wonderful. Great memories. Your cellar was a destination. Thanks for sharing
I have a question for you and I hope you will be able to help. My grandfather
came to the USA through Ellis Island without his family and I have that information. When I looked for information about my grandmother and the rest of the family, there is no record of them coming through Ellis Island. I know there were many Italian families arriving through the port in RI and she came with her children a girl and two boys. Do you know how I can find any information about arrivals through RI landings? I know she came after my grandfather, who was met by a relative who was living here already and lived with his family on Marietta Street, in Providence. I have census records that confirm the birth of other children after she arrived, one of which was my mom! My grandfather must have worked and paid for his family to come here. They were able to buy land and build the house that I and my brother Jim were born in. I would like to know about the boat the arrived in and the date they arrived.
Natalie, I'm not sure where those records are. I would start with The RI Historical Society Library on Hope Street. And The RI Public Library
Natalie, I would try The RI Historical Society Library and The RI Public Library
Good one, Ed! Sounds almost exactly the way the cellar looked in our house down on Rill Street. No locks on doors. No secrets. My grandpa was a barber so he kept a chair in his room where the guys in the family all got their haircuts. The coal bin was directly under my bedroom; fortunately the floors were solid and the coal dust stayed in the cellar! We had a dilapidated wine press, but no pickling jar. You made me laugh when you said Peter's boots mummified! I guess all the old 3-deckers in the neighborhood were built to a fairly common pattern. Many are gone now, ours burned to the ground a few years after we and all my relatives had moved away. Yours still stands!
There were so many memories 'buried' in those three-deckers, Ron, particularly in the cellars. But . . . a barber chair? I love it.
Very funny, I enjoyed it, thanks Ed. Frank
Pickled peppers are a staple at every Italian holiday in our family. Mom (who is French Canadian) and dad pickled every fall, not only to have them as part of our antipasto, but to give as gifts to extended members of the family. As dad is turning 91 in June and mom 90 this month, last year was the first time they did not pickle any and it made me sad. After reading this, I am committed to doing it with them this September so I can continue the tradition. Seems all the family recipes have fallen to me. Some day you should write about the Italian Wedding Soup, the artichokes, etc.
The memories of the cellar were sweet - mine were from my Memere and Pepere's house.
Oh, and if you just happen to pickle one extra, I'll buy the coffee
Love your story, Dianne, and I'm happy that I rekindled your memories. A common refrain as I attacked the pickled peppers off the antipasto dish was, "Stop eating them. You'll fill up. There's more food coming."
Good tip about more food writing. Will do.
Tanti auguri to your marvelous parents.
Ed, I have never had a pickled pepper sandwich, but I would love to try one. Where do I get pickled peppers? Do you put any condiments on the bread? 😳
Usually nothing on the bread, Sheila.
Ah, any grocery. They are usually next to the dill pickles😉
Your stories are the best! Though I am not Italian, I grew up (till 10 years old) in a 3 decke, coal down the chute to the basement. We had a Vulcan heater for hot water. Wish we had your pickled peppers, but we got our dill pickles from the deli. Keep sharing! 🥰
Thanks, Sheila. So many stories are similar. I'm happy to rekindle your memories.
Have you had a pickled pepper sandwich on Italian bread? Ya just gotta.
I'll never forget your story when someone tries to recite the "Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers." You also made me think of the cowboy outfit and matching guns holstered I wore to fight off Indians and outlaws. I'm tempted to meet you at high noon on any street you choose, or get my other "set of irons" to meet on any golf course of your choice.
I was the fastest gun on Wealth Avenue. Caps galore.
The clubs are clean. Played twice. We'll get out.
Who delivered oil to your house? My husband's father, Romeo Romano, had an oil delivery business. Do you remember Miss Migliori, the piano teacher on Wealth Ave? I remember Peter from GW West Jr. High, but that was AFTER his pickling experience?
Brings back memories of our 3-decker! Our assigned storage room had a coal bin where coal was dumped through the window and my brother Paul got to shovel it in a pail and bring it up to our second floor apartment to keep us warm. Paul loved that basement…spent many hours creating a rustic manger for Christmas. He saved his paperboy money to buy the figurines to fill it at the 5 and 10. My mother cherished that crèche and now Paul’s daughter has it. Rest in Peace Paul.
The main part of the cellar held our wagons and bicycles. My sister Nancy loved to scare me saying rats were down there. I moved like lightening when I went down there to retrieve my blue Schwinn bike…best childhood Christmas gift I ever received… and I won it from Duffy’s Drug Store!
You bring out the best in me, Ed! Thanks for the memories!
Lovely stories and cherished memories, Susan. I am pleased to have rekindled them.
Beautiful!
Brought back memories of the cellar in my childhood triple decker home. Nonno's grape press, jugs of wine, and vats of it left to ferment into vinegar, the travel trunk, black cast iron stove where tomatoes were cooked down and the sauce was bottled. Fun times playing with friends in that dark, scary, cellar!
Are you sure you wern't roaming around in my cellar?
Haha...I think anyone that "grew up Italian" had the same cellar!
Memories for a lifetime and I mean memories.
Yup. I can still smell the smells
Loved the photos.
That was a great story. Did your grandfather ever find out he fell in the pickle jar?
HaHa. Of course he did