A Bit of Herself

By Filomena Abys-Smith

A Bit of Herself is Filomena Abys-Smiths second cookbook memoir. Journey with Filomena to a distant place and time where you will sit at her table and meet her mother and grandmothers. Share in their lives, savor simple delicious meals, and become forever bonded to women that will inspire you to live life with great passion. In each chapter, you will find step-by-step recipes and words of wisdom to live by.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 15, 2018
• ISBN: 9781984545701

Filomena Abys-Smith

Filomena Abys-Smith immigrated to the United States from Naples, Italy, and is a retired nutritionist and business owner. She has written two memoirs, A Bit of Myself, and A Bit of Herself where she shares a personal in-depth analysis of the Americanization process. She currently lives in Westchester, New York with her husband Peter. Her passions are writing, cooking, and gardening. At the Lord’s Table is her debut novel. You can connect with Filomena on her Facebook page-https://www.facebook.com/abitofmyself.

Book preview

Copyright © 2018 by Filomena Abys-Smith.

Library of Congress Control Number:      2018955106

ISBN:                  Hardcover                              978-1-9845-4568-8

                           Softcover                                978-1-9845-4569-5

                           eBook                                       978-1-9845-4570-1

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Rev. date: 08/29/2018

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Contents

Acknowledgements

Adriana Esposito Reed

Stephanie Cioffi Johnson

Nicole Abys-Smith

Peter Thomas Smith

Introduction

Forethought

Conversations with Mom Fortuna Melise Abys

Don’t Complain Recipes

Polio and Poverty

More Than Enough Christmas Recipes

P Natal o capiton sadda’ fa For Christmas the eel must be made

‘A Uerra ‘e a Miseria The War & the Misery

‘A Uerra Recipes

Tu se Pazz

Tu se Pazz Recipes

Brown Wallet Recipe Zia Pina’s Do Your Homework Pasta

A Livella

Preserving the Soul Recipe

Nonna Carmela

Singing While You Bake Recipes

Nonna’s Carmela’s Cookies

Nonna Filomena Bucciero Grieco Abys

Two Husbands and Many Children

Zia Titina’s Sweet & Savory Pizza Rustica

More of Myself A Che Munn e Munn Nun Se Fatt Mai Acussi

Cooking from the Heart Recipes I’m An American

All American

You Want Some of This Recipes

To Your Health

The Yellow Box

Laughter in the School’s Kitchen

Miranda’s Let’s Enunciate the Word PPP.….Pastry

Mischief in the Kitchen Panettone

Forever Bagnoles

Adriana’s

Italian Made in America

Kitchen Whispers

These old pots and pans dented and bent from years of use whisper words from another time and place.

With the rhythmic sing-song language of my ancestral land, they whisper

*Ue’ uaglione mietti’t in moto o si no’ogg nun si magna*

Each dent can tell a story, each pan still holds so many memories.

These pots and pans connect me to my past and hold my hopes and dreams for the future.

*Hey Girl, get moving or else today we won’t eat. *

Acknowledgements

The reward for writing my first cookbook memoir has not been monetary or in accolades, but in the connections I have made with kindred spirits. I have had the pleasure of meeting so many like-minded friends and treasure their kind words and support. Without their encouragement, this book would not have been possible. I owe a debt of gratitude to Adriana Esposito Reed and Stephanie Cioffi Johnson.

Adriana Esposito Reed

Adriana and I lived in Bagnoli Naples on the same street Via Ilioneo and we were born in the same month and on the same day. We lived a few houses away from each other and inevitably played together as children. I, having moved to New York at the age of six had no recollection of her at all. Until she was searching for reading material and came across my first memoir, Adriana had no recollection of me. I’m sure the back cover describing my immigration from Bagnoli to New York caught her attention and the reconnection started. I still recall reading her first Facebook message and the pure happiness it gave me to know I had reached an old friend. This reconnection has been invaluable and my deepest appreciation goes to Adriana for taking the time to help me write out Neapolitan words and phrases. This book would not have the same tone or Neapolitan soul without her help. She has become my true kindred spirit. A million thanks to you my Bagnoles friend.

Although I have written this memoir in English, I have used many Neapolitan phrases in the narratives to allow the reader to join in the conversation. The conversations I had with Italian family members were always in Neapolitan, the rhythmic sounds of this complex language will always be part of who I am.

Stephanie Cioffi Johnson

I first met Stephanie at a book presentation in Manhattans’ Little Italy where I was one of the speakers. She and my husband Peter had been childhood friends attending the same grammar school. After the presentation we chit-chatted, and the connection was instantaneous. Through our many conversations, we truly have become kindred spirits. Stephanie assistance in proofreading this collection of memories have been crucial in the completion of this book. I will be forever grateful for her patience and guidance, but most of all for her friendship.

Nicole Abys-Smith

Many thanks, to my daughter Nicole Abys-Smith for helping me with the computer, for proofreading the final manuscript and for tolerating all my questions. Most important thank you for being a kind and loving daughter.

Peter Thomas Smith

Last but not least a million thanks to my husband Peter Thomas Smith for all his encouragement and patience in proofreading my writing, for being my sous chef, my pot washer, chief taste tester, and my biggest fan.

Introduction

Each of us is the sum of all the moments we lived with all the people we met, and these moments become our story.

I have started this collection of memories with the same quote that ended my first cookbook memoir, A Bit of Myself. This quote has guided my writing and I hope it reminds the reader that each of us is forever connected to every person we’ve met. Even a casual brief encounter can forever change the course of our destiny.

I have selected three women you will meet in this book for that very reason. They have had an everlasting effect on my life. I have tried to give these simple women a voice, to make them real in the mind and heart of the reader. Within their voices you will find wisdom, courage and strength. This memoir is written with the intent of bonding womanhood, transcending time, country, and culture so that we develop a connection to each other.

Note to the Reader, most of the recipes in this memoir have been handed down to me by family or friends who were very skilled in the kitchen and they often laughed while I wrote them down and tried to convert measurements from the metric system to US standard. More often than not with a wave of the hand, I was told: You know, use this cup or this hand amount. I have tried my best to give exact measurements and hope all the recipes turn out well for you.

Forethought

Writing is a lonely process; it’s just me and my thoughts as they swirl around in a maze of confusion. I pluck at them, one by one trying to organize and categorize them into a meaningful life. In front of me I have bits of scrap paper written many years ago, most are barely legible; faded and frail they beckon me to tell a story.

A story which was told from mother to daughter through spontaneous conversation. While the daughter listened, the mother cleansed her soul and revealed a Bit of Herself. I, the daughter of Fortuna, now quietly sit at my desk contemplating how different my life has been from my mother’s and try to reassemble the bits of our conversations into a written story.

The conversations always in Neapolitan were interpreted and written in English by me. As I write I realize how strong the internal longing to pass down a written family history has become. I struggle to write these conversations into a written story, and although I fumble with each word I push myself to continue.

These mother-daughter conversations took place mostly in my mother’s tiny, spotless, well-organized, kitchen on Hunt Avenue in the Bronx. She’s lived in this prewar railroad apartment since the murder of my father in May of 1978 and I have spent many hours sitting at her