Oliverio 1 - Essay

     As a toddler I lived on an olive a day.  How ironic, my last name is Oliverio.  My lack of eating disturbed my mother.  The neighbors exclaimed, “Your daughter looks like the little girl down the street, you better run her to the doctor” “That little girl is dying of leukemia”. 

     After extensive testing the doctor assured my mother I was healthy.  He told her not to worry, that one day I would eat.  For some reason, I expressed an interest in food, but it was more for playing with it.  My family dined at the New Rochelle Shore Club.  My parents and older brother loved lobster.  I would order one just like everyone else, but when it arrived, I ran away and hid behind the curtains.  My father always coaxed me back to the table where I stared at the lobster.  Eventually, I moved the claws around as if it were a puppet but never ate one morsel.

     I was afraid to eat, I don't know why.  When I was in the first grade I had such a phobia of eating my lunch in front of the second graders, every lunch period I just sat fidgeting and staring at my food.  My teacher took my by the hand and put me in an empty classroom where in the dark, I nibbled on my peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

     As I reached adolescence I began to eat on a regular basis, mostly junk food.  Potato chips and Baskin Robbins chocolate mint ice cream were my favorites.  I also loved my Aunt Vita's peppers, stuffed with ground seasoned meat, until I had an appendicitis attack.  I had eaten two large stuffed peppers that night.  I moaned, groaned and vomited all night.  Finally, by morning I begged my mother to drive me to the hospital.  Good thing, my appendix was about to burst.

     In my teens, I became anorexic.  I was concerned about my figure.  I thought I was fat.  I weighed 95 lbs, at 5'2”.

     It wasn't until I began dating my husband that I really began to eat and enjoy food.  I was not inclined to eat anything but Italian food, but that all changed on my very first date with Jack.  He took me to a Japanese restaurant.  I dreaded this date.  All I thought about was, “what the hell was I going to eat”?  He ordered sushi, and I ordered chicken teriyaki.

     Jack's famous line, “How do you know you don't like it if you don't try it?” became the precursor to all our first meals together.  I accepted his challenge and tried everything.  My husband, a bona fide chef, educated my palate.

     I instantly fell in love with sushi.  Just about every night we ate at Cho Cho San in Thornwood.  After Cho Cho San went out of business, we tried every single Japanese restaurant in Westchester County.  Sushi was great for the soul, but not so great for our pockets. I was hooked not only on sushi, but also raw clams, oysters, and lobster.  He also turned me onto French, India, Thai, and German foods.

     Jack and I dated nine months and nine months later we were married.  Within the first year of our marriage I packed on 30 lbs.  My parents began to joke, “Look out”!  The human disposal is here.  Who would ever believe she lived on an olive a day”.  The week my father died, my father asked my mother, “Marie, your daughter doesn't look so good.  Is she eating?”  Her reply was, “Sonny, don't you worry about your daughter.  She'll eat us out of house and home”

     Lately all I do is think and dream about food.  This summer I gained another 10 lbs.  I was perfect before this 10 lbs.  Over the years I had shed 15lbs of the 30 lbs I had gained.  I was happy at 115 lbs.  Now I have no choice but to diet, but I love to eat.

     Now only do I love to eat, but I also love preparing food.  I love entertaining and sharing my creations.  One of my specialties include fettuccine ala Oliverio, a version of fettuccine Alfredo usually with diced ham or mushrooms and chicken.  I also make a wonderful country breakfast.  My scrambled eggs with ham and cheese are said to be the best.  The secret is constant stirring and one piece of cheese per egg.

     Back in the early '80's Jack and I owned a restaurant in Larchmont.  We both worked in the kitchen.

The kitchen has powerful meaning for me.  It offers me love, stability, and security.  I clearly remember the warmth felt observing my grandparents and my own parents preparing each meal, meals to be shared with their loved ones.  The kitchen to me is an extension of love.  It is there we can create our hearts desire to share with those we truly care about.