web powered by
From The Publisher's Desk
As a kid I never got a lot of stuff for Easter and my parents didn’t hide eggs. We lived on an egg ranch with 10,000 White Leghorns in the back yard so eggs were never considered expendable. They were our bread and butter.
When I was growing up, I didn’t always get a basket, but I always got a new outfit for Easter. Mom and I went to church in our new clothes and then went over to North Palos Verdes Street for a big feast. That’s where several of my dad’s cousins lived in San Pedro. For Easter the main course was always lamb – a whole one cooked slowly on a spit in the back yard. The cousins traded off turning the spit, basting the meat and fetching another bottle of wine.
The women peeled potatoes and made ready spinach from the garden, a salad of dandelion greens dressed with olive oil and homemade red wine vinegar and traditional Easter bread. Each grandmother in the clan had her own recipe for Easter bread and the loaves all looked different. Some were round and others were braided but they all tasted the same kind of delicious –– sweet and fluffy with a hint of anise flavor.
|<< Start < Previous page 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 Next page > End >>|