'Feast of the Seven Fishes' Tradition Still Popular for American Italian Households

HOMEWOOD, Pa. -- From time to time, Frank Tropiano will drive past the tiny structure he called home after he and his parents, three sisters and his grandparents arrived in this country in 1966, a structure that was attached to the rear of the house on 7311 Susquehanna St.

"Our address was literally 7311 Susquehanna Rear," he explained. The humble apartment was nonetheless a big improvement over the even tinier structure with no plumbing or electricity they left by boat from Siderno in Calabria, Italy.

Comforting Christmas

Although only 10 years old at the time, Mr. Tropiano, now 67, said he remembers it as if it were yesterday, feeling both happy and relieved when, a few days before the family's first Christmas Eve in America, his mother and grandmother came home from the Strip with baccala and started soaking the pungent-smelling cod.

He said he felt a solace that immigrant children often crave in new surroundings when he saw his family starting the preparations for the Feast of the Seven Fishes. For him, it was always the highlight of the Christmas season.

"When you are a kid, you don't want things to change. We had come to a new country, and everything was so different here. I can remember the wave of comfort surrounding me, knowing Christmas Eve in America was going to be no different than Christmas Eve in Siderno, in that we would have the seven fish we'd always have the night before Christmas."

For the next week, Americans of southern Italian descent will flock to fish and epicurean markets across the country to purchase a wide variety of seafood to prepare for the longstanding southern Italian tradition of fasting on Christmas Eve. The fast concludes with a bounty of seafood dishes, many of them fried in olive oil and almost all of them accompanied by some sort of pasta.

There is this common misconception among food writers that the Feast of the Seven Fishes is an American invention. Southern Italians who immigrated to this country, like Mr. Tropiano, adamantly dismiss that. So do newspaper clippings from the 1920s.

An Entire Festive Day

Mr. Tropiano said that in Siderno, most of the family -- cousins, aunts, grandparents -- all lived next to each other and would spend the entire day frying and cooking. For him the whole day took on an aura of anticipation and festivity.

"I'm going to tell you, my house in Italy was literally -- oh my God -- I'm going to say, 20 by 12 feet. It didn't have no plumbing. No electric. We had a tiny kitchen that was outside that was probably 4 by 4 (feet), and somehow everyone came over and cooked all day," he said.

The tradition has its roots in the Catholic faith tradition of a fast from meat before a holy day, so people eat fish instead. The reason for the number seven is less clear. Mr. Tropiano said he believed the number referred to the seven sacraments. "Our meal actually also has to consist (of), in total, 13 dishes, each one for one of the apostles and Jesus," he said.

By last Wednesday, it wasn't just Wholey's and Penn Mac that were humming with customers who flocked to the same stores as their fathers, grandfathers and great-grandfathers when they first came to this country for the feast. At the parking lot at 20th and Penn Avenue, the proprietor Jules Troiani, along with Yousef Saeed and Richard Gizzi, said they spend just as much time carrying their customers' bounty to their cars between their purchases as they do valeting cars at the lot.

"This week before Christmas, we will bring in an extra three people just to take people's fish from Wholey's to their car, so they can run into Penn Mac to get their pastas, olives and cheeses," said Mr. Troiani.

The Great Connector

Dee and Frank Tropiano walk out of Wholey's overloaded with bags filled with smelts, calamari, clam, lobster, crab legs, shrimp and scallops. After having the bags dropped in their car, they make their way back toward Penn Mac to buy the baccala, crotonesi, reggino parmesan, manchego cheese, panettone, calabrese olives, dececco and, of course, spaghetti.

Coming here is a ritual for thousands of Italians, like the Tropianos and my own family -- a rite of passage that has been handed down from each generation, often from mother to daughter, to continue the family feast that not only celebrates their faith but also brings people together over the other great connector: food.

The Sciulli family of Greenfield has already made their pilgrimage to the Strip for their seafood. Anna Sciulli said they have continued making their supper in her parents' Greenfield home, where her son now lives and which has two kitchens -- one on the first floor and one in the basement -- to accommodate the amount of food they are making.

"The basement is where all of the frying happens," said Ms. Sciulli, the granddaughter of Italian immigrants; her husband, though, arrived here from Northern Italy in 1972.

When my own grandparents immigrated here from Strongoli, they settled on Yuba Alley in the Hill District. My grandfather Antonio would go to the Strip with my Uncle Bill and pick up the smelts, sardines, baccala and other fresh seafood for my grandmother to prepare. I carried on that tradition in our family, first taking my children Shannon and Glenn in the '80s when they were toddlers.

It is a custom I have continued with my grandchildren Eleanora, Milo, Louisa and Rocco, who of course all scrunched their noses last week when seeing piles of squid on ice at Wholey's. But they will still dutifully stuff them with me next weekend as they become the bearers of the ritual going forward.

My father, Ron Zito, 87, recalls the dishes his mother served, especially the snails: "Oh, I remember the snails vividly. My mom would put them in a bowl of water in the sink in the kitchen, and in the morning, we'd get up and they were crawling on the walls and tile," he said, laughing.

The anticipation of the aromas of breading, sauces, cheeses and the cooking is a big part of the entire experience, said Ms. Sciulli. "So is the chaos of squeezing so many people into one kitchen, because of course everyone -- everyone -- wants to be in the kitchen to take in the noise, laughter and togetherness of all coming together to make the meal."

To the Market on a Donkey

Mr. Tropiano emphasizes the traditional fish dinner in Siderno was simple in comparison to what he and his wife, Dee, will be serving to his adult children and his grandchildren next Sunday at their home in Penn Township.

In Siderno, "we had fried calamari, sardines and we had anchovies and then the baccala," he said. "We didn't have access to a lot -- remember, my father would go to the market on the donkey, and whatever fish they had there fresh, he got. Sometimes it was seven, sometimes we didn't have enough money for seven, you understand.

"We didn't have much, but we had a lot."

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Salena Zito is a CNN political analyst, and a staff reporter and columnist for the Washington Examiner. She reaches the Everyman and Everywoman through shoe-leather journalism, traveling from Main Street to the beltway and all places in between. To find out more about Salena and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate webpage at www.creators.com.

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