"Now The Goose Is On The Table."

Not in our house it's not.

#4 of 31 Things I Love About Christmas: The Centanni Family Christmas Eve Dinner.

Some have turkey with all the fixings (whatever those are). Some have...well, I don't know what other people have, but what we have...it only makes sense to us.

The headlining item of all Christmas eve...and New Year's eve...and 4th of July...and Memorial Day...Labor Day...or any occasion would be Grandpa's homemade Italian sausage. There is not a meat packing company on earth that can compete. Though there are a few little trusted shops back home that will do, it just isn't the same. This is a long and labor-intense process that has become less frequent in recent years but I do remember a few Christmases, once school was done, heading over to Grandma's to help Grandpa with the process in their completely furnished kitchen, in their fully finished, heated and plywood paneled basement, Sinatra and Tony Bennett cassettes in hand.

Told ya I was Italian.

Yes I have the recipe and no I won't give it here. I look forward to trying my hardest to make it just like he does. Yea I know I can get an attachment for our KitchenAid mixer, I want the standard sausage maker like he uses. If you're gonna do it, do it right. Those times of making and helping in the process will last a lifetime, I only wish I had the chance to do it more often.

The sausage thing seems weird to most people. It is not the most glamorous food on the planet, but it dates back to long before I was born. Tales of Christmas past come up often. Stories of everyone gathered at Grandma's upstairs and eventually downstairs, nibbling at snacks and treats all night, playing cards, playing music and waiting until midnight to fire up the sausage and eat "dinner" at a time when normal people are asleep or intoxicated. Only to come back in less than 12 hours and do it all again. These feasts included sausage then, they include them now and I will personally make sure they include them in the future. It's just an Italian thing, I guess. What we eat isn't always as important as why we eat them. Italians are known for a lot of things and among them is their natural knack of cooking and desire to do as much of it homemade as possible. It's part of our identity.

Then the next headlining item is the baccala. Oh sweet baby Jesus. I really don't think anyone can do it like he does. Yea I got the recipe and look forward to trying it and hoping for the best, but it may not measure up. For one, the fish is on the pricey side. Secondly, it takes days to soak and the water must be changed. Once it's fried up with just lemon juice to flavor only, heaven. This is an acquired taste and some find this fish appalling. Not me.

Other items usually include salt potatoes or seasoned potato wedges, side vegetables change from year to year, followed by salad with all the fun things that turn a salad from a healthy side dish to bad news (cheese, bacon bits, croutons...bad ideas). Plenty of genuine high-carb tasty Italian bread, including the fresh Italian sub rolls for the sausage. The antipasto....uffa! Pepperoni, sopressata, salami, 3-5 varieties of olives, provolone, and pickles (can't have a holiday without pickles). I would usually volunteer to cut and plate the pepperoni, sopressata and provolone, operating under the "3 for the plate, 1 for me" system of counting until I was found out and I was then usually relieved of my job.

Dinner itself was pretty much the same every year and that was fine with me. While certain items and side dishes changed from year to year, it was the entire act of Christmas dinner that I remember and treasure. Waiting like puppies at the front picture window for Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt Julie, Uncle Harry & Giavanna to get to our house, watching the snow out the windows (messing up the drapes and fogging up the windows in the process), the blast of the frigid air when we opened the door, taking their coats and fetching our Grandparents' slippers, finishing up dinner, forming the line in the kitchen and finally settling in. Christmas had finally come. Here we were, Christmas had come again and we were all here to enjoy it. Dinner was just the first step in a two-day festival. Christmas Dinner was and is a time for stories and talking, loudly. What seems to me to be a normal talking voice seems like yelling to others.

Told ya I was Italian.