The Fourth of July: An FFD with the Paladinos

For many years my family and the Paladino family spent the fourth of July together. This holiday was one of many FFD’s. (Family Fun Days---which is exactly what we called them) When the kids were younger we spent the Fourth at backyard barbeques hosted by Elaine and Steve. But when our kids hit their teenage years, and we both joined a beach club, our holiday celebration relocated to the beach.

Here’s the thing, while both our families lived (still do) in the ethnically religiously homogenous land of Garden City; and we, as a whole had become as gentrified as possible (despite the overpopulation of vowels in our last names) there was one area of our own cultural/ethnic background (Italian) that we were never willing to give up: our joy of eating really good food. And even though Elaine is 100% percent Irish by blood, by nature of becoming a Paladino post marriage, she is in fact 100% Italian by proxy.

Between Elaine and me, we brought 3 coolers full of just food to the beach every year on the Fourth of July. Beverages took up another 2 coolers. And major tipping was required to get the locker boys to haul it down from the parking lot to the beach especially on a holiday like the Fourth, when tipping was at its peak price. And while everyone surrounding us brought potato chips, grapes, ham sandwiches and beer, we brought gourmet meals. We brought shrimp cocktail, frittata, grilled portabellas, eggplant and zucchini, calamata and Sicilian olives,  mozzarella and prosciutto, sausage bread, grilled chicken marinated in oregano, lemon juice, and olive oil, soppressata, roasted peppers, ciabatta, fried veal cutlets, an assortment of cheeses, plus the fruit, and the beer and the Pinot Grigio and the Merlot. (and wine glasses and  tablecloths for the 3 beach tables) And just in case we got a little bit hungry, we brought chips, hummus and salsa. Understand this: culturally speaking, if you are Italian and every meal is not abundanza you are shamed—if there are no left-overs, it signifies you did not prepare enough food.   

And after a full day of eating all that food, napping in a food coma, swimming and playing Norman Rockwell beach games all together in a family fun way, we would pack up, shower, and then go out to eat. Fourth of July was the food gift that just kept on giving—for us, it was like Thanksgiving with a better menu and a tan. And we didn’t just go out to eat to any old restaurant—we went to an Italian restaurant (what else?)  for fried calamari, baked clams and mussels marinara.

And after the espresso and the Marie Brizzard we finally called it a day. It was time to head back to the land of gin and tonics and white bread. As we drove home, after a long, fun, satiated day we would see fireworks firing off in the distance. And I would wonder about all the other people looking at those same fireworks as I was in that moment—and I would wonder what they had done all day---and I would think to myself: Boy. Hotdogs are really over rated.