Category Archives: Feast of the Assumption

Aug 15 2015
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Feast of the Assumption, Ferragosto

Ferragosto or, Dog Days are Over

While in Japan it is the time of Obon, in Italy it is the time of Ferragosto. Woe to American tourists who travel to Italian cities at this time of year, for chances are good they will find the majority of shops and restaurants closed. Most Italians have headed to the sea for the Ferragosto holiday, a practice that dates back to ancient Rome where this time was known as Feriae Augusti, or “Holidays of the Emperor Augustus.”

The sea is the logical destination as these sultry Dog Days of summer, the hottest part of the year, ruled by Sirius, the dog star, come to a close. There are many schools of thought as to the meaning and the timing of the Dog Days, but if we have to choose one, I’ll subscribe to the version that has them begin each year in early July and end about now, around the 15th of August. For all these Dog Days, Sirius and our sun have been rising together in the morning sky. It was thought in times past that the combined heat of the two made for our hottest days. But in the constant rearrange of the stars and planets, now Sirius begins to emerge from the sun’s bright light and heat to rise independently. The two forces separate.

In the Catholic Church, today is the Feast of the Assumption, marking the day of Mary’s ascent, body and soul, to heaven. Mary, human like us. It is also my grandmother’s birthday. Because she was born on the Assumption, her parents named her Assunta, in honor of the day. Ferragosto and the Feast of the Assumption go hand in hand.

In Lavagna, Italy, yesterday brought a festival that features a cake that stands 21 feet tall! It is the Torta dei Fieschi, a wedding anniversary celebration that dates all the way back to 1230. Tomorrow, on the 16th, it is Il Palio in Siena, the famous horse race that runs through the entire city. This Ferragosto tradition is accompanied by celebrations throughout Siena and, of course, great quantities of food and wine.

In short, if you are in Italy, Ferragosto is not a time to stay home. But this seems not unusual. Some years ago, my mom’s cousin Tina visited from Italy. We had never met her before. She arrived in Miami for a one week stay with three very heavy suitcases, and while she was with us, she changed outfits more than once a day. One of her morning robes had feathers on it. We had never seen such a thing except maybe in glamorous old Hollywood films. Feathers floated into the air in her wake as she floated down the hallway. On Sunday during her visit, we did what we always do: Mom made a big dinner while Dad puttered around the house. Tina asked in Italian, “But what do you do on Sundays here?” Mom answered in the best Italian she could muster. “We cook, we read the paper, we relax.” Tina was not impressed. “In Italy,” she said, “we go out. We go dancing.”

This is what I imagine Italy to be like during Ferragosto, at least if you are in the right place at the right time. If you are in a touristy part of Florence or Rome during Ferragosto, you’re probably in the wrong place at the wrong time. But if you are in Siena, or in Lavagna, or in Napoli (where Tina is from)… well, there’s probably a lot of celebrating and dancing to be done. Get you to the sea or get you to a festa. Summer is coming to a close and it is time to send it out with a bang. Florence + the Machine have got that down pat. The dog days are over, the dog days are done.

DogDays

 

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Aug 15 2014
6 Comments
Feast of the Assumption

Assunta, my Cucuzza

AnnaeVincenzo

My grandmother was born in Italy at the turn of the last century on the Feast of the Assumption, is today, the 15th of August. Her parents named her for the day; they named her Assunta. She was a small woman who was suspicious of most forms of speedy transportation, including escalators, and yet brave enough to leave all she knew to sail to this country with my grandfather and their newborn child, my aunt. They didn’t bring much with them, either: as far as I know, all they brought was clothing and as for possessions, Grandpa brought an old ceramic wine jug and Grandma, a silver serving fork and carving knife. When they came here to start anew, they really meant it.

I don’t know if this is traditional for the Feast of the Assumption or if it was just traditional for Assunta’s birthday, but most years, it seems, we celebrated Grandma’s birthday with a dinner made from cucuzza longa, which is a wonderful pale green Italian squash that is ripening this time of year. It’s not terribly common, but it should be: more difficult children would eat their vegetables if cucuzzi longa were among them. They can grow to be two or three feet long; some are straight as baseball bats while others grow into delightfully twisty shapes, like serpents. Grandma (and now my mom) would cut them into long strips and cook them on the stove with a scramble of eggs and parmesan and lots of Italian parsley, the flat leaf kind. Seasoned with fresh olive oil and salt and pepper and served alongside a crusty loaf, you’ve got a meal fit for a king. Or at least a king with peasant roots. This is the food I grew up with: hearty peasant fare that my more American friends never understood, and that is, very likely, not even familiar to kids in the south of Italy these days.

As for the Feast of the Assumption, it is a holy day of obligation in the Catholic Church. It marks the day of Mary’s ascent, body and soul, into Heaven. The idea behind the day is that if Mary could do it, perhaps so can we. Mary is like us, a mortal born of this earth; she is our link between Earth and Heaven. In Italy, the day marks the beginning of Ferragosto. Most Italians close up shop and head to the seaside for the Ferragosto holiday, a practice dating back to ancient Rome. The name, in fact, is derived from the Latin Feriae Augusti (Holidays of the Emperor Augustus).

And as for the cucuzza longa, if you can’t find it, zucchini will do nicely. You can still use “cucuzza” as a term of endearment, as many Italians do. But if you’re at the farmer’s market this week and see this bizarre vegetable, why not muster up that enterprising spirit and buy one or two? Assunta would be very impressed with your bravery, and will certainly smile upon your culinary efforts. What can possibly go wrong?

 

Image: Anna & Vincenzo, my great grandparents, who named their daughter Assunta.

 

 

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