I wear the apron because...


It belonged to my mom, Angelina Frazzini Miller
Mom was an amazing cook and baker
Who cooked every day for her family of 12
AND
A different menu
For the Dominican nuns convented across the street
All from our tiny kitchen on West Philadelphia on Youngstown’s south side.

Her homemade spaghetti sauce, fresh baked bread and rolls were legendary
As were her clothespin cookies
40 years later, when I run into kids from the old neighborhood, they recall hanging out at our house on Wednesday, bread day, in hopes of being invited for dinner
Clothespins are still a staple at Youngstown weddings cookie tables
But none are as good as mom’s were.

After her first stroke, in her early fifties, Mom mastered baking with only the use of one hand.

Several of my Miller Sisters inherited her cooking skills… I did not
(I may not be the worst cook among the sisters, but I’m certainly not the best).
 
We all inherited one of mom’s aprons thanks to my sister Rose.
 
Every year since mom died, The Miller sisters have gathered together in her memory
Exchanging gifts on Miller Sisters weekend is one of many rituals established  
Some are silly: tie dyed underwear
Some creative: lapel pin bearing mom’s visage
Some surprising: results of our DNA ethnicity test
Some sacrilegious: so cannot be revealed here
But the honor for Best Miller Sisters Weekend Gift Ever, 
Goes to the aprons my sister Rose collected when sorting through mom’s belongings
She put aside all the well-worn white ones
Embellished each with a tiny angel (for Angelina) charm
And gave one to each of us.

I wear mine every year when I grill dinner for my sisters on our weekend
And when I represent KeepSafe Food.

Have an Apron like story? A food connection that bridges generations? Share it by sending an e-mail to: maryangela@keepsafefood.com