It's no day at the beach

Every Sunday Anthony packed up the family in the Ford LTD for a day at the beach. And Filomena would pack the trunk with food. 

You wouldn't be faulted for guessing the family was planning a nonstop cross-country trip if you only saw the contents of the trunk. A cooler for the drinks, of course, every family would have that. But then, another cooler for the vegetables; onions, carrots, garlic, lettuce, celery, olives, and three kinds of peppers. Roasted red peppers, pickled pepperoncini, and raw green peppers.

The only thing Filomena would prepare ahead of time would be the tomatoes. Blanching them in boiling water for thirty seconds in the basement kitchen of the house (the main kitchen on the first floor was only for show, it was never used), she'd put them in an ice water bath and peel the skins. Then, she'd put them in a Pyrex dish and let them cool in the refrigerator.

The tomatoes, olive oil, balsamic, salt, pasta and wine would sit in another cooler on Filomena's lap. It had to or there wouldn't be room for the Coleman stove and propane tank in the trunk.

While the kids played in water or ran on the beach, Filomena made the "gravy" on the stove in the parking lot. She couldn't risk getting sand in sauce, so she chopped and stirred 100 feet away from her family, yelling at them to stop splashing or put down whatever crustacean they found in the water.

Anthony would intermittently check on the gravy, taking a taste and grabbing the salt or red pepper flakes, but Filomena would place herself between Tony and the pot, preventing him "ruining" it. Tony would storm off, looking for the corkscrew, and, unable to find it, yell at the kids. "Why would you touch it? I told you not to touch anything!"

Families from the suburbs, driving down to the shore for the day would watch Filomena, smiling at the crazy lady making a full Sunday dinner in the parking lot at the beach. "Why would she spend all day here, cooking?" they wondered. Especially when their bologna and cheese sandwiches were just as filling. But, by four o'clock, when dinner was ready, and everyone got a bowl of pasta, some bread and cheese, and some salad, no one wondered why Filomena did it.
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If you enjoyed this story, you might like my novel Truffle Hunt
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