My husband has always been a fan of the Godfather movies . . . and that was even before he married into my Italian family. Of course, my family is from northern Italy, so no Don Corleone or mafia connections for us.
But a few years ago my parents met and became friends with a group of second generation Italian-Americans who moved here from New York, and it is through them we get out Godfather fix. Their relatives were originally from southern Italy, so when you take their Italian heritage, mix it with a little Sicilian and Neopolitan history, stir in a strong sense of family, and then add that New York flair . . . you have the makings for a great party.
This was the third year in a row that Joe and I, along with the boys, were invited to a pig roast hosted by an Italian-American couple whose family is orginally from Naples. The party took place in their home, which offers plenty in the way of entertainment: a full-sized bocce court, two fire pits (one perfect for roasting marshmallows, the other for roasting an entire pig), and an entertainment room complete with a large screen television, a pool table, and a state-of-the-art wine cellar where they bottle their own vino rosso.
This year's pig roast included a live band, Italian pastries from a New York bakery, and a 20 lb. block of torrone in which great chunks were hacked off with a hammer and chisel and passed out to the guests. (I may have been responsible for eating 12.2 of that 20 lb block . . . but we won't go there.)
Here's the serendipitous thing: the husband's name is Don (my husband and I secretly call him the Don), and after last weekend's party my husband and I are planning to watch all three Godfather movies this weekend.
In the words of Don Corleone: Capisci?