The recipe : “I Marubini and Brodo”
di Paola Frigeri
People and their stories ... popular kitchen
I remember the Sunday when I woke up slowly ... I heard the bells ringing the last touch to remind everyone that it was time to go to Mass.
I prepared myself for dragging me into the kitchen with her hair still matted, ready for breakfast. A bit 'of milk with coffee, and the toasted bread wet in my white bowl that I brought back to the main streets of Cremona with its patisseries… Only sold them the kind of "pan biscuttat". Under my nostrils passed the smell family that took me back to the origins of my parents Cremonese. The city of Cremona ... a fresco of many memories. I Marubini, memory of flavors that reigned on my table on Sunday.
I remember my mother to Saturday browned the topside flavored with sage and with that slice of butter bought in the countryside of Cremona. Prosciutto, salami without garlic (I did not like), bologna, and a piece of boiled. So the whole, combined and ground, was ready for the filling.
Every Sunday the plank was placed on the table ... the pasta pulled artfully and cut into squares, the filling perfectly in the middle, and the view of the most beautiful thing ... the Marubino. A perfectly equal to each other, Mom wanted them so, all perfect ... as ready for a party. The broth was alone in the meantime, can not wait to guests fall into one at a time.
And finally, a reminder of her, I can almost see it ... Two curlers on her head as if to put duty, and gaze with admiring eyes tended toward that table full of Marubini all in a row, as small but great soldiers ... as big as my mom.
