7 is The Magic Number

So, I must admit... I am a little Italy obsessed. I love Italian culture, Italian cuisine, Italian architecture, Italian people... all things Italian. I lived in Italy, I travel back each year. I study the cuisine, the wine, the language...

I kind of want to be Italian. I think everyone in my family does... in fact my Aunt tells a story about how, as a girl, she cried when she found out that we weren't.

Yeppers. I am just about as Irish-American as you can get. Almost 100%.

My Italian friends enjoy breaking my balls...

"Let's see... we have Donatello, da Vinci, and Raphael. You have Bono.


We have the most beautiful people on the planet. You have Gingers.


We have Tuscany. You have Belfast.


We have the Renaissance. You have famine.


We have the most well respected cuisine in the world. You have blood sausage."



Ha ha ha. You're so funny Italian friends. I get it. You're better than me. Cough*FU*Cough.

Having said that, because of my envy of all things Italian, I have always wanted to take part in the Christmas Eve tradition - The Feast of the Seven Fishes.


My Italian friends have threatened to never speak to me again if I kopp that tradition... unless I "marry in". So, I have decided that this year I would make up my own, ethnically appropriate, Christmas Eve tradition...

I'm going to have The Feast of the Seven Potatoes.



What do you think? WHO'S JEALOUS NOW ITALIAN FRIENDS!?!?!?

Mashed
Scalloped
Fried
Baked...
Twice Baked
Boiled...
Boiled with Salt
Chips


That's right. You're green with envy right now aren't you? (pun intended... get it? Irish... green...?)

No? You're not jealous? Shit. F. Yeah. You're right. You win. Damn.