All Blog Posts Tagged 'breadstories' (10)

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Papa Geppetto

Stefano sawed old mop handles that day because he was told to; and when he finished, he cut-up the two remaining broom handles and dropped the pieces into the vat of boiling oil to cleanse. Precise cuts at six inches each, he felt like Papa Geppetto crafting Pinnocchio.



When Angelo walked into the bakery's back room he said, "Did you cut the mop handles? We need to wrap the dough for the cannolis."



"Yes Ange," replied the baker's assistant, "all finished.



"Ok," said… Continue

Added by Stephen Torelli on September 4, 2010 at 5:00am — 1 Comment

That Damned O' Cigarette

Our eyes widened like oceans when we entered the flat off Arthur Avenue; the curtain rods were laced with pasta; yes, strands of dough, dangling in place of drapes debuting for the main course. And in the tub, off the kitchen, chickens clucked and danced their last dance.

The old men tall talked as their wives listened and laughed, because they knew them so well. My ninety-year old uncle clasped my hand, seated me, and offered a Lucky Strike. With a glass of wine in hand I…

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Added by Stephen Torelli on September 2, 2010 at 6:05am — 6 Comments

(John, Bob, and Pickle)

When we were young, Uncle Ernie, the pigeon racer, said that we could name his feathered friends. In fact, he said half the flock was ours--me, and my two brothers. Well, we decided to name them.


My younger brother, Joey, now a Broker, named his birds Money Bags, Two Dollar Jim, and Three Cents a Bushel. Me, the Baker, named them Lulu Sprinkles, Carmen Cupcake, and Baking Sam.


Well, my oldest brother, Anthony, now an Actuary, named his John, Bob,…
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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 29, 2010 at 11:00pm — 6 Comments

(Pinball Fever)

Mom divided the money from the Christmas tree and gave it to her three sons, and sure enough, Stefano spent his share. He liked to have fun so he spent it on his friends and put most into the pinball machine. For a dime he would play one game and he played the whole weekend. When he went home he told Grandma what he did.


"Well, my little fly," she said, "when you have lots of money, spend a lot and when you have a little, spend a little." Stefano took that simple rule to…
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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 29, 2010 at 2:00am — 2 Comments

(Stefano's Diary)

I remember Uncle Rocco from age three, a tough guy with a warm heart. He watched out for me after Daddy died and always gave me candy when he saw me walking the neighborhood streets. You know, he worked construction, but I always wondered why he wasn't a professional ball player because that's what he loved; he was that good.


Anyway, when he was young, Grandpa sawed his bats in half, saying playing ball is fun; a man must work, so go to work. "And what about boxing?" said…
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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 28, 2010 at 5:30pm — 1 Comment

(Grandma Knows)

Stefano's Diary - April 19, 1972


Grandma was tough and she knew it. She was also beautiful and knew that too, but she never let on; I mean knowing that she was beautiful and stuff; we know because we're family; you can feel stuff like that.


We also keep secrets that we don't even allow ourselves to…
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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 26, 2010 at 4:39pm — 3 Comments

(Protecting Beauty)

Grandma has a scar on the top of her wrist but never says what happened.

Mom says, “Grandma left the island…

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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 24, 2010 at 6:00pm — 10 Comments

(Remembering Uncle Rocco)

Young Stefano gazes at the Christmas tree and knows that Uncle Rocco visited

when he sees the five-dollar…

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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 22, 2010 at 1:30pm — 6 Comments

(Sharing Pie)



Stefano dragged the last pizza from the oven before closing, and Sal, the owner of Peppy’s

Pizza, glared at the pie and said, “Stefano, we can’t sell that; it’s…

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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 21, 2010 at 10:30am — 3 Comments

(Eight-Fifteen)

The bells chimed at eight-fifteen, and on that cold winter morning we scurried from our bed to mama's side. She rubbed her flour-dusted hands and glanced at the clock before she answered; it was a friend asking about dad. We returned to our room and tried to sleep, but at eight-thirty the bells clapped.…


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Added by Stephen Torelli on August 20, 2010 at 4:00pm — 2 Comments

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