He Knew All The Words

Archive for the ‘family’ tag

After Vienna: Paris, Lyon, Montpellier, Lagrasse, Mexico City

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I’ve been a bit overloaded since the beginning of my autumn vacation season. Having plowed quickly through some entries on my Vienna trip, many entries are yet to be written for Paris, Lyon, Montpellier, Lagrasse, and — now, having just returned — Mexico City. I’m working on it. Check back soon.

For now, a short photo preview.

Paris

Lyon

Montpellier

Lagrasse

Mexico City

Written by David Zaza

November 12th, 2012 at 1:35 am

2012 Vacation: Day -2

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Laura and I drink to Marie and Marco at the US Open, September 1, 2012

On September 1, 1962 my parents were married in Flushing, Queens. On September 1, 2012 — on their 50th anniversary — Laura and I went to Flushing, Queens to attend the U.S. Open. We drank a special anniversary toast to them. One week from today, I meet them in Paris!

Written by David Zaza

September 12th, 2012 at 10:01 pm

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Paris Opera Ballet. In Paris!

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I’m beside myself because my family and I are going to see Paris Opera Ballet on September 24. Just us, 2000 thousand Parisians, and the Palais Garnier. Oh, and some of the best dancers in the world. Doing an all Balanchine program! Serenade, Agon, and Prodigal Son — three ballets that could couldn’t be more different in style, but which are united in showing Balanchine’s absolute mastery and genius.

Third trip to Paris, third time seeing this company. I saw them twice in New York as well — once fifteen years ago and finally again this summer. But to have them doing an all Balanchine program is beyond my wildest dreams.

Written by David Zaza

August 13th, 2012 at 9:55 pm

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Concettina Died, a book by Marco Zaza

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Years ago, when I started this blog, I asked my dad to contribute by writing down some family stories to be posted in his own section of the site. He came through in a major way — writing two dozen stories that told of his growing-up days on the East Side of Youngstown, Ohio and of our family’s development from immigration through today. His blog is called Concettina Died and Other Stories of the East Side because he had always said if he were to write a book, that would be the title.

So this year, after Dad updated the site with two new stories, I started to think it was time to compile them into an actual book, and to flesh them out a bit with illustrative photos that would help bring to life all the wonderful characters in these tales. With the help of friends and family who sent me the images and helped out with various bits of fact-checking, I pulled it together in time for Christmas. Dad was surprised and delighted to see his work take this new form, and my family had a wonderful time over the holiday enjoying the book and reminiscing about the events in the stories.

The book was produced using print-on-demand technology from Blurb.com. It was edited and designed by yours truly. And it’s available for purchase by anyone who wants one. Concettina Died is an 80-page, fully-illustrated 8-by-10-inch volume. It is available in both hardcover and softcover. Here is an online preview of the book.

If you’d like to order one for yourself, you may do so here:
Hardcover edition
Softcover edition

Enjoy!

Written by David Zaza

January 23rd, 2011 at 3:46 pm

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Thanksgiving 2010

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This woman is a Thanksgiving Genius:

Every time I go to Atlanta I gain five pounds. Stephanie’s cooking skillz are second-to-none. She made a very traditional, and absolutely perfect, holiday meal — turkey, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, green beans, brussels sprouts, stuffing, cranberry chutney, and popovers. Oh, and she made an appetizer of succulent shrimp cocktail with champagne, you know, just in case we weren’t gonna have enough food! Insane. And awesome. Of course, it’s easy to see where she gets it. My parents arrived from North Carolina with a lasagna, stuffed shells, sausage, braccioles, wedding soup, and tarrales. Good lord it was all heavenly.

For most of the weekend I did what I always do at Stephanie’s house: I alternated between sitting on the sofa and going to the kitchen to make cocktails between feedings. I love going there.

We did venture out to the mall on the Friday after Thanksgiving. It was crowded, but not insane. And amazingly everyone who works at that mall was all trained at the same stupidity factory. So after very light shopping (including oohing and ahhing over a black diamond bracelet at David Yurman — sigh…), we cut our losses and headed home for cocktails, Scrabble, and Wii. We also played Pictionary, which was weird.

But you know what’s even weirder? We went bowling late Friday night! It had only been, oh, fifty years or so since Mom went bowling. And maybe 30 or so for Dad. Things have changed — now it’s all black-light and disco, automatic scorekeeping and beer! We had a ball. Bah-dum-bah!

I got pictures of everyone in action:

And I got a great sequence of Stephanie getting a spare:

And then Thanksgiving was over as quickly as it came. But Christmas comes. Here it comes!

Written by David Zaza

December 4th, 2010 at 12:36 am

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Happy Birthday, Nick Colla

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Adrienne and Nick came up for a quick but fun-filled weekend to celebrate Nick’s 30th birthday, which is today. They arrived early on Friday, and after dropping their stuff at my place and doing a bit of shopping, met me at my office for lunch. We ate at Landmarc, which was delicious as usual and a nice return to something very familiar to Adrienne. I went back to the office and the Collas went back to Brooklyn. We met up at Blue Ribbon Downing Street Bar for cocktails after work. We lucked into the corner seats and stayed there for three rounds, enjoying the relaxed atmosphere and getting caught up.

We’d planned for Friday to be a casual dinner and for Saturday to be the nicer dinner to celebrate Nick’s birthday. Well, Friday’s meal was, I suppose, casual, but it was a long drawn-out affair and somewhat pricey. And it was perfect. We ate at Peppolino — another welcoming, familiar venue for Adge. The food there is just ridiculously perfect. But we ate so much of it that we couldn’t even have any ridiculously perfect desserts like their ricotta cheesecake or the heavenly panna cotta. We returned to Brooklyn, and with Adrienne being tired she promptly went to bed. But it was only a bit past midnight so Nick and I headed out for a draaank. We went to Pete’s Alehouse where I was served a Maker’s on the rocks about the size of my head. From there we went to Floyd, where we watched drunk people play bocce and had two more rounds.

Needless to say, Adrienne was up before Nick or I on Saturday morning. She went out and bought bagels and cream cheese and OJ and a breakfast sandwich for Nick. We had a nice slow start to the day. The weather this weekend is lovely — sunny and low 60s. So we took advantage of the sunshine and enjoyed a nice walk on The High Line, NYC’s new elevated park on the west side. We window-shopped our way through the Meatpacking District into the West Village. After wandering for hours we needed lunch. So we started at Grom for some gelato (!) then hopped a cab to the East Village to get some Crif Dogs. Mmmmmmm. This was Nick’s only firm requirement for the trip and we enjoyed it immensely — maybe even more so for it not being 3am and drunk off our asses, which is how we’ve usually experienced Crif Dogs.

We headed back to my place to nap, relax, listen to some music, and have a pre-dinner cocktail. We bumped our dinner reservation back by an hour and really took our time getting going. We took a cab to Union Square and had a wonderful birthday meal at Blue Water Grill. Nick had a two-pound lobster that was so beautiful we almost cried. It was another long, leisurely dinner — fish and sushi rolls and drinks and wine and desserts and digestifs. Wonderful.

And then just like that it was all over, saying goodbye as I put them in a cab and off they go, back to Florida…. By the time I post this, they’ll just be touching down in the Sunshine State.

Written by David Zaza

November 14th, 2010 at 1:53 pm

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The Unknowing Co-Conspirator

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When a loved-one dies, memories can be a salve for the wounds of grief and sadness. Dad has paid loving tribute to his sister Palma in a new story he sent me, recalling from his childhood the beginnings of her marriage, and the trust and sweetness Aunt Palma always embodied, in this case, by way of secretly entrusting him in her personal affairs. Again, this story has been added over at the old site, where I encourage you to read all of Dad’s stories, which are touching and, more often than not, very very funny. Thanks for another story, Dad.
– DMZ


The Unknowing Co-Conspirator

In August of 2010, my dear sister Palma died after a long and courageous fight with diabetes. Attending, as she had requested, her very simple funeral, my mind wandered back to two events that took place many years ago.

In July of 1949, I was just eleven years old. Palma, who was eighteen, invited a young man to our house, so that he could ask my father’s permission to marry her. This came as a complete surprise to Mama and Papa, who strictly forbid my sisters to date at that age. Also, Martha, our oldest sister, was engaged to be married the very next September, and according to an old Italian tradition, daughters must be married off in chronological order, eldest to youngest. So, being the epitome of the Italian father, Papa quickly dismissed the young man, asking him to never darken the doorway of his home again! And so Joseph Frank, the would-be suitor, left, and a weeping Palma was sent to her room. The crisis had been met and dealt with.

The very next week, while the family and some friends celebrated Papa’s birthday, Palma called me up to her room, and asked me to carry some paper bags of old clothing to the basement. I made two such trips, and anxiously went back to birthday party, for fear I’d miss out on cake. Meanwhile, my sister Martha and her fiancée returned home from a matinee movie, and joined in the party. Mama, missing Palma’s presence, asked Martha to go upstairs and bring her down to join in singing Happy Birthday. What Martha found when she went to their bedroom, was a note from Palma, saying how she could not live without “her Joe,” and so they were eloping that day. The bags of old clothes I had carried to the basement were actually Palma’s clothes. She could not risk using a suitcase, for fear of being caught. She used me and the cellar exit to make her escape! The celebration was over.

The newly weds, fearful of Papa’s anger and possibly some other real or imagined retribution, made a home in Kane, Pennsylvania, a good three to four hours away from our home in Ohio. I missed my sister, who was always ready to give me treats (she liked to make fudge, which never set, so we ate it with a spoon), or help me entertain myself.

By autumn, I had not seen Palma for several months, and then one day I looked up from my desk at school, and there she was, peeking in the window of my classroom door. I was so excited to see her, and I jumped out of my seat. The teacher asked me to sit down, and I remember saying, ”but that’s my sister, and I want to see her.” Mrs. Schrader went out to the hall, heard Palma’s story, and allowed me to go out and see my sister. What a happy reunion. But once again, Palma asked me to keep a secret and not tell the family that she was in town. Once again we were co-conspirators!

Months later, on December 24, Mama received a phone call from Palma from Kane, Pennsylvania. In tears, Palma told Mama that there had been a fire in their apartment, and although they managed to save most of their furniture, they were basically homeless. When Papa heard this, he told them to hold tight, that he would be there as soon as possible. So on Christmas Eve, in a snowstorm, Papa drove his truck into the hills of Pennsylvania, and brought Palma, Joe, and their belongings home to Youngstown. Mama got the gift of a lifetime — her family was together again!

– Marco Zaza

Written by David Zaza

November 1st, 2010 at 11:02 pm

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“You and Your Town” — a story update from Marco

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You see that little link over there on the right that says Concettina Died and Other Storied of the East Side? Well, it’s been since January of 2009 that we had an update from Marco. Until today.

When Stephanie, Joe, and I were visiting Mom and Dad over Labor Day, Dad told a story that we’d heard before, but that never gets any less funny for the retelling. Something made me think of it today and I realized that it’s a classic that really shouldn’t be left out of Marco’s story archive over there at the Concettina Died section of my old site. So I asked Dad to write it out. He obliged within the hour.

Marco writes:

After high school graduation, my parents, who were busting their buttons because I was the first in the family to go to college, decided they would drive me to Athens, Ohio, where I would start classes at Ohio University. The journey was about four hours, and took us through winding country roads, and it seemed, through every small township and village in southern Ohio.

In one of these villages, a traffic jam had Papa’s car at a dead standstill. It was a two lane street, through the middle of that village, with the opposite traffic directly across from our car. September can be very hot in southern Ohio, so all the car windows were rolled down (no air conditioning in 1956). Papa, who had little patience when he thought the fates were acting against him, cursed in his native Italian, and was generally beside himself over the delay. In the car directly opposite ours, traveling in the opposite direction, a rather elderly little lady sat behind her wheel, patiently waiting to move forward. I seem to remember she looked at us, and smiled. Papa smiled back, and in his broken English, said to her, “eh ladee, thisa yu town?” She, probably expecting some nice word about her village, answered, “Yes, yes it is.”

Then with all his frustration ready to be unleashed, Papa leaned out his window and yelled to her, “Wella, poo! Go to hella you eh you town!”

Unable to believe what had just taken place, I slid as far down into the back seat as I possibly could, hoping for the traffic to begin moving soon. And that’s how my college days began!

I’ve added this story to the full archive, and if you haven’t done so recently I recommend going back through and reading all of Dad’s stories again. They’re funny and touching and it’s a wonderful blessing to have them written down. Thanks, Dad.

Written by David Zaza

September 28th, 2010 at 4:09 pm

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Thea at 3

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Thea turned three this week. Jim made her a pink flamingo cake. So adorable — both the cake and the little girl!

Written by David Zaza

August 17th, 2010 at 12:21 am

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In Loving Memory of My Aunt

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Here is the obituary for my Aunt Palma as it appears in the Youngstown Vindicator. Aunt Palma was one of the most warm-hearted people, with an easy laugh and smile that we’ll always remember.

Written by David Zaza

August 12th, 2010 at 9:07 am

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La Zaza Vita: Episode 2

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Well it’s been years since we made Episode 1 of this series, so I guess we’re on a roll. The first “La Zaza Vita” video was a half-hour cooking show where Marco taught us how to make tarrales. In Episode 2, we see Marco and Marie making homemade pasta. But this time, we’ve shortened our playtime to 5-1/2 minutes to make a real web-style show, rather than mimicking the pacing and tones of the Food Network like we did last time. Technological note: I’m still learning the ins and outs of compressing video to Flash — so bear with me. The quality here is not nearly as good as the raw Flip video I’m using for editing. But I’ll learn more as I go and hopefully the video quality will improve. Nothing, however, can improve upon the delicious meal Mom and Dad made on Boxing Day 2009. Here’s how they did it:

Check back soon for a special archived video: La Zaza Vita Episode 1: Tarrales

Written by David Zaza

January 5th, 2010 at 9:06 pm

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Puerto Rico Pictures Posted

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The Zaza(-Armstrongs) in Puerto Rico

I just haven’t had a chance yet to blog about our awesome family vacation to Puerto Rico. Mom’s birthday was a special event, and this was a special trip. It’s been seven years since the five of us flew away alone together. I’ll post the details soon, but for now, my pictures are posted. Suffice it to say that Puerto Rico is a very colorful place, and that’s reflected in these pix. Check them all out here.

Written by David Zaza

December 26th, 2009 at 12:11 pm

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Thanksgiving 2009

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Thanksgiving feast Alex and Elaine Jim carving the turkey Chloe and David
Thea Chloe Francesca James and me

I’ll tell you what — Thanksgiving may have come about because some pilgrims fled England, but bring some English folk over here in the 21st century and they can make you one fantastic Thanksgiving. Jim and Alex hosted our holiday this year, along with Jim’s parents, Elaine and David, who are visiting from the other side of the pond. Of course, this is no longer a purely English family anymore — as Jim and Alex have two lovely American daughters, Thea and Chloe (they’re British, too, with the passports to prove it!). Chloe, at 10 months, is just learning to walk and just developing her own sparky little personality. She’s delightful. And Thea? My goodness, she’s only 2 years old and she’s speaking in full paragraphs and with complete understanding of many topics that I thought could only be understood by 6-year-olds. She’s so loving and sweet. Toward the end of the night, she was standing in the kitchen with Alex and I was crouched behind her, with my hands on her shoulders, and she looked over her shoulder at me and said, “I love you very much.” My heart melted and I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.

Jim cooked a big ol’ turkey and carved it like an expert. And we had all kinds of harvesty veggies and cranberry sauce and special English bread sauce (which was yummy!). And then we had a nice long rest before pie and cheese and dessert wine and coffee. All told, our little gathering lasted about 10 hours! A successful holiday, I’d say.

In addition to the above eight pictures, you can see a whole bunch more right here.

Written by David Zaza

November 27th, 2009 at 9:58 pm

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The Holiday Dilemma

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After work on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, I had a tough dilemma.

[nonmobile]I had a holiday dilemma
[/nonmobile]
[mobile]I had a holiday dilemma[/mobile]

Should I eat one of the tarrales Mom and Dad sent me?

[nonmobile]Should I eat a tarrale?
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[mobile]Should I eat a tarrale?[/mobile]

Or should I eat one of the cartadats Aunt Joyce and Uncle Jerry sent me?

[nonmobile]Or should I eat a cartadat?
[/nonmobile]
[mobile]Or should I eat a cartadat?[/mobile]

Aha! I found the answer. EAT THEM BOTH and feel the Zazaura!!

[nonmobile]I ate them both!
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[mobile]I ate them both![/mobile]

Written by David Zaza

November 25th, 2009 at 6:41 pm

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An Open Letter to Stephanie Zaza

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Stephanie, I’ve been biting my tongue for over a week because I just had to be sure about this before I said anything. Deep breath.

I’m moving on from Maker’s Mark as my preferred whiskey for Manhattans.

I know!

And here’s the kicker — and don’t be mad because history’s on my side! — I’m switching to rye.

I know!!

At Clover Club I asked the bartender to make me a Manhattan with a whiskey of his choosing. He informed me of what I already knew: that Manhattans were traditionally made with rye, not bourbon. (I let him think he was schooling me, but in cocktail culture even neophytes know that…). He said he likes the “booziness” of Rittenhouse rye. (I love it when bartenders get all technical!). The Manhattan was superb. Another bartender there that night, my current “bartender crush” actually, was taken aback when I told him his colleague was giving him a run for his money in the Best Manhattan departments. He asked his friend what he did to make it so good and we were both delighted with the response: “I used a secret ingredient. Unicorn tears.”

So last weekend I invited some friends over for Manhattans. I had some Makers in the bar already, but I also bought a bottle of Woodford Reserve bourbon and a bottle of Rittenhouse rye. In back-to-back tastings, I had to confess that my two bourbon stand-bys were just not living up to the Rittenhouse. And you know why? “Booziness.” Seriously.

But that night I was playing host and had numerous drinks — not to mention that I only had maraschino cherries not big black bings soaking in brandy — and I didn’t trust myself to make a final commitment on such a momentous life change. So tonight, in the privacy of my living room, with hulu.com blaring at me for entertainment purposes, I made myself a single Rittenhouse Manhattan, hold the cherry.

It’s true. It’s the booziness. Or it’s the unicorn tears. Or it’s the relative straightforward bluntness of rye compared to the coy playfulness of corn. Or it’s that having reached the scarily mature years of my [ahem] 40s I am simply having a midlife crisis. Whatever it is, I’m here to tell you, change has come to America. Or at least this little second-floor two-bedroom part of western Long Island.

Please, Stephanie, back me up here. Buy yourself a bottle and do us up a little experiment, all scientific-like. Do a back-to-back taste test. And then some subsequent night, alone, in front of a movie, make one more nice well-chilled one for yourself. And then report back here. I’d hate to think I’m either crazy or that I’ve fallen victim to a sinister spell of unicorn tears. I must know if it’s the booziness that makes it so right.

Love, David

Written by David Zaza

September 25th, 2009 at 1:06 am

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