BUON COMPLEANO NONNA! Some more Sicilian craziness...

Happy 89th Birthday, Nonna! And another one, and another one, and another one...

Last year at this time, Nonna was in bad shape, in the hospital and we weren't sure she was going to make it through the holidays. But she has that Sicilian fight in her, and she is alive and spunky today and we are truly grateful, even though she doesn't exactly share that sentiment.

We took Nonna out to London Lennies, the best seafood restaurant in NYC which happens to be in the Queens hood. Top notch meal and top notch service.

It was a lot of crazy Galatioto Family fun, which culminated in the entire restaurant singing "Happy Birthday" to Nonna over a giant piece of cheese cake. Nonna's wish after she blew out the candles: "Natrannu un vulissi esseri essei 'cca" or "Next year I don't want to be here."

"Don't worry, Mama," Uncle Sal screamed across the table, "next year, we'll take you to Joe Abbraciamento's," (That's an all Italian joint up the block.) He knew full well she wasn't talking about the restaurant.

Claire, my bestest friend and our waitress was concerned.

"Was the service bad?" she asked.

"No, Claire, next year Nonna wants to be dead," I said.

And this is why Sicilians are insane. I rest my case.

Is there any bread?

Mike and I finally moved! We have such a nice new apartment with an amazing kitchen and I cannot wait to get in there and start cooking. In the meantime we are living in a mess of boxes and have to order in. Tonight we ordered from Joe Abbracciamento's the go-to restaurant for all Middle Village family events. I had my Sweet 16 and my college graduation parties there where they serve amazing Italian American dishes "family style," meaning you roll out of there feeling like a blimp. Its on the more expensive side so we tried to keep it simple, a "bowl" of Penne Vodka, a "bowl" of Pasta Fagole soup and a "side" of broccoli. Oh and don't forget about the bread. So I go to pick it up, and first off its not in a bag, its in a box. When I open the box, there is a catering style tray of pasta, along with a vat of broccoli sauteed in about 5 heads of garlic, a tub of soup and 2 loaves of bread. So Mike and I drove to the Juniper park and had a romantic dinner out of the giant box. As Mike was shoveling pasta in his mouth, he turned to me and asked me, "Is there any bread?" and I almost spit the entire head of broccoli that I was eating out of my mouth. Anyone eating a tray of pasta really has no place asking for bread. He doesn't understand why he feels sick now.

Sorry for the crappy iphone photos.