Most holidays growing up were spent at my Nana's house in San Mateo. Nana and Papa came to the San Francisco in 1935 from a fishing village on the Adriatic, raised my mom and aunt while working at times in markets and bakeries and shipyards to make ends meet. Nana lived into her 90s, and until her last year, cooked and gardened and walked to the grocery store five blocks and one steep hill away for meat and dry goods. So many holidays involved sitting at her kitchen table, eating the krustula or fritule that she'd made earlier, while she stood at the counter, one eye on us, one eye on the stove. Late-afternoon, she took a break to play a few hands of Briscola with us. Sometimes she'd pour herself a small glass of rakia home-brewed by one of her friends from the 'old country.'
While I miss being fed by Nana, I do like to cook. Slowing down to make things I might otherwise buy has been another hallmark of the 2020 shelter-in-place experience (dosa batter, almond butter and pomegranate juice from our tree, today, brined turkey breast). Like I do while driving, which I’m not doing much of these days, I get a lot of my thinking and listening done as I chop and stir.
I'd forgotten about Briscola, but a combination of watching The Queen's Gambit and reading The Biggest Bluff (plus the onset of holiday season), reminded me of the games I most remember playing growing up. Perhaps I can relearn Briscola today (or Pinochle, which dad taught us) while the turkey rests and the Brussels sprouts roast.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
