The Beautiful Tradition of Il Convito

Now that we're in Davoli, I'm right in the center of the action for some really interesting traditions. Like, for example, il convito.

Last year, I came to visit Mamma at the tail end of this community lunch that she and her friend Concetta put together. This year, though, I was in the thick of it!

A Little History

When I asked Mamma what the origin of this event was, she wasn't sure. She just knew that as long as she could remember, people throughout Davoli and surrounding villages would offer a lunch to those less fortunate on the day of San Giuseppe, March 19.

Now, sadly, she and Concetta are the only ones offering a meal. People have gotten too busy, and/or the tradition has fallen out of vogue, the way so many have in Calabria.

I dove deeper and asked AI more about the history. There's a legend that it started in Sicily. There was a terrible drought, and the Sicilians prayed to Saint Joseph to help them. When the rains came, and things got better, they offered a meal in his honor. Thus, the tradition began.

The Work Begins Days Before

Mamma said that normally they buy the bread they serve, but they decided to bake it themselves this year. This isn't that unusual; Mamma bakes bread in her wood oven several times a year.

While I slept, she got up early and made the dough and formed it into small ovals. It warms up under a couple of old blankets while she and Concetta make biscotti. I know you're thinking of the yummy, sweet cookies, but in this case, biscotti are hard, round, salty crackers. They look like bagels.

I, unfortunately, arrived after most of the work had been done. My job was to point the flashlight into the oven so Mamma could slide the large wooden paddle under the biscotti. Concetta then wiped off the errant pieces of charcoal from them with an old shirt and placed them lovingly in a basket.

The morning of the lunch, we breaded baccalà (fish cured in salt) and fried the pieces in the garage as the dog, Charlie, scouted for dropped pieces of fish below.

We baked 75 fish sticks (the kiddos who were invited would, naturally, turn their noses up at fried "real" fish!), and cooked a big pot of peas.

About the Guests...

Every year, the ladies invite a group to enjoy the meal. Last year, it was the residents of the nursing home. This year, the preschool was invited, along with the two nun teachers. Also, a group of kids aged about eight to ten. And the priest, Don Nicola.

That meant a very long day of chaos! But we'll get to that.

In addition to we three, several other ladies arrived to assist. Thank goodness, because serving 30 children six courses was a lot of work!

There were also a few honored guests: a handful of women in their 70s to 90s who, I am sure, did their fair share of participating in past events, but who now were revered.

A Room Full of Bambini

The mammas began to show up around 12:30; the gleam in their eyes at the prospect of having one less child to care for for a few hours was obvious.

I realized how unused to children I am, now that Max is an adult. For hours, they laughed, screamed, and ran around when they got away with it. My friend, Antonella, tasked me with keeping an eye on her Giuseppe, who, quite honestly, needed about four pairs of eyes on him.

I did my best to discipline the ones who insisted on shaking up the Coke bottles and picking up strangers' cell phones, but after hours, I was exhausted.

We served:

• Ceci (chickpeas)

• Pasta con sugo (pasta with red sauce)

• The fish sticks with peas

• Fried rice balls

• Salad

• Four kinds of dessert!

Lucky kids (and lucky us, since we got the baccalà! Each child was sent home with a bag that contained an orange, bread, and dried figs.

My Takeaway

I'm not Catholic, but I love the idea of giving back to the community. And I felt like one of the team, running back and forth from the kitchen to the table. While my feet were heavy, my heart was light at the end of the day.

But I HOPE that next year, we invite the old people, not the rowdy kids!