Merry Christmas, cheeky lovers! I hope everyone has a happy holiday and please remember, if you’re going to bring Italian sausage to any of your holiday parties, you need to cook it first.
Have a very cheeky Christmas.
My best friend sent me an email earlier today about how a Sicilian woman asked my friend’s boyfriend (who is not Jewish at all) if he was a Jew. He’s very much not. Her story is quite hilarious and reminded me of my Jewish tendencies.
Pork. I don’t like it very much. I can handle bacon and I just recently started eating sausage. Very recently. In the beginning of a relationship with one of my men, I think my hatred for pork came up in conversation over dinner with his family. His dad asked why I didn’t eat pork and jokingly, we told him it was because I was Jewish.
It was also stated in that same conversation that we were just joking.
However, his dad only held on to the first part. His son was dating a Jewish girl. Probably every conversation I had with his dad after that, he and I would “joke” about me being Jewsish. Or I thought we were joking. Apparently he was serious.He would ask me questions about the Jewish faith and I would answer. Probably not correctly, because I’m not a Jew.
A year or so after the initial conversation, around the time I started to eat sausage, he questioned why I was being lax with my religious beliefs and wanted to know if I was thinking about converting to Catholicism (which I am already).
It wasn’t until then I learned that he thought I was a Jewish girl.
Disclaimer: I have nothing against the Jewish religion. I have worked for Jews and have several Jewish friends. This is just a funny story.
Christmas time. One of my favorite times of the year. I was going to spend Christmas Eve with Omar’s family. It was our first Christmas together. I wanted to make a good impression on his family and being that they were Italian, I thought it a perfect idea to bring Italian sausage as a contribution to their family gathering.
That morning, I woke up early so I could accomplish everything I needed to do. I visited with my family for a bit and helped my mom do some baking. Went to Calandro’s because supposedly they have the best Italian sausage in town. Finished wrapping presents; baked a few dozen cookies; got ready for the dinner party.
While I was getting ready, his mom stopped over to borrow a few serving dishes. I was so excited about my idea to bring the Italian sausage that I just couldn’t keep it a secret from her.
She wants to try a little taste, so I tell her it’s in the fridge. She opens the fridge door and says, “All I see is the sausage still in the package.” And my response, all bubbly, was something along the lines of…I know-I thought it’d be easier to just slice it when I got there, but feel free to open it and have as much as you want.
She was confused at first, but then couldn’t control her laughter when she realized that since I don’t eat pork, I didn’t realize you were supposed to actually cook it.
That’s right. I almost brought raw sausage to their Christmas Eve party. That definitely would have made a lasting impression alright.
