La Vigilia The Feast of the Seven Fishes
La Vigilia, the vigil, or the Eve of Christmas. Although the exact origin is mysterious, the Feast of the Seven Fishes seems to originate from Southern Italian Americans celebrating in the US. On the eve of Christmas it was tradition to abstain from anything made of meat and feast instead on a variety (specifically seven types) of seafood.
At least in my family, seven fishes were served, though other family traditions included more as long as it was an odd number. Seven, as explained by my grandmother, was the perfect number. And Vigilia happened every year at 4pm hosted by her. Christmas Eve was also where I learned to help in the kitchen while keeping my fancy Christmas outfit clean (a learned talent which continues to serve me well when keeping my chef whites stain-free!).
Thinking back, this annual tradition must have proved thankless for my grandparents who prepared for this feast a week in advance, with a marathon of cooking and woke up Christmas morning with a refrigerator bursting with leftover fish.
Kids can be picky eaters, even in Italian families, and while overflowing platters of dishes made with whiting, haddock, cod, scallops, shrimp, sardines, and anchovies were passed around the table, they always seemed to make it back to the kitchen still full.
With a growing brood of picky grandchildren, my grandmother never strayed far from the original menu she knew as a child. The bacala would involve soaking salt cod in milk for days, then preparing a tomato based stew, more sweet than savory. This was the main event, served after the pasta course. We’d find our seat and tuck our collective legs under the table, gearing up for a marathon of sitting, eating, and talking. As each course was served, my sister and myself would collect the dishes - a welcome relief to get up and stretch.
Next course - basement fried scallops and haddock. Basement fried because the stove would be full of simmering pots monitored by my grandmother, so grandpa would head to the basement with an armful of butcher paper wrapped fish, set up an electric skillet to cook up batches of fish. My job was to collect the slimy butcher paper, watch and learn the fine art of basement cooking.
Days of preparation, distilled to an hour or so of consumption, and the Vigilia celebration was just getting started. After dinner, we retreated to the Christmas tree, read a bible verse and opened a massive amount of presents. In later years, secret santa was adopted and became a great opportunity for gag gifts, namely taxidermied alligator heads and piranha from various exotic places (that always got a laugh). Dessert, coffee, and at midnight, a quiet walk to church through feet of snow that absorbed sound and created an eerie silence through the small town. Though I have no recollection of what happened after midnight, when Vigilia was complete and Christmas had arrived, the only way to celebrate was, of course, frying up the sausage and peppers.