it was a simple solution
Ode to Nonna's Sugo Piece!
it was a simple solution
designed to keep us sated
while we impatiently waited
for the lunchtime feast
it was a simple concoction
a handheld saucy delight
bursting with flavour
seeping between
two slices of white
not the star of the show
treat for those in the know
homely smell and taste
not a crumb went to waste
*
we would moan about the hunger
you didn't shout or chastise
or fill us with silly lies
about ruining our appetite
instead you took the ladle
and a fresh slice of white
you filled with red sugo
and handed them one by one
to each of us hungry kids
we loved the taste, you know
but even more was the show
of deep love you had for us
it was no mean feat or fuss
*
it was a simple solution
designed to keep us sated
while we impatentily waited
that's no longer an issue
the wait, the longing
for a tasty sugo piece
and that's why, Nonna
I'll never be at peace
not really, and I guess
that's fine, part of life
the tip of the sharp knife
left my heart with a hole
but you reside in my soul
*
it was a simple solution
I tried to recreate
but without your love
and without your magic
the taste was there
but something was missing
*
it was a simple solution
just a simple sandwich
a delicious red sugo piece
an Italian Scottish fusion
a reminder of your impact
on our shared timed with you
and beyond.
*
Thanks for reading!
Author's Notes: There are plenty of snacks and other food I could have (and given that I put forward older pieces) already have included as entries for the Snacktime Sonata challenge, but perhaps the one that is so interlocked with memories is what is known as a "sugo piece".
For those unfamiliar with the vernacular, a piece in Scotland is a simple sandwich, usually white bread with some butter, but can have jam or something else inside it. It was a common snack when I was growing up. Given my Nonna's heritage as an Italian-born immigrant, she took the humble piece and elevated it by infusing it with her sugo, pasta sauce. So when we went to her's for lunch on a Sunday, or other days and occasions, she would give us a sugo piece. It was not just a way of keeping us sated until our pasta followed by salad, chicken, or cured, cold meats, and roast potatoes meal was ready, it became a tradition. For the challenge, as there is a lack of stock photos of sugo pieces on the internet, I made sugo just for the purpose of having images of a sugo piece. It was, sadly, not a patch on her's, but for the few bites it lasted, it transported me back there, to her house.
Here are some messy images of how it was made:
About the Creator
Paul Stewart
Scottish-Italian poet/writer from Glasgow.
Overflowing in English language torture and word abuse.
"Every man has a sane spot somewhere" R.L Stevenson
The Accidental Poet - Poetry Collection is now available!
https://paulspoeticprints.etsy.com
Reader insights
Nice work
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
Top insight
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Comments (13)
Something about Nanas/Grandmas and food huh! I like how you explained what a sugo is (I looked it up midway haha), and the pictures help too. Full of rich imagery when describing the food e.g. "seeping between two slices of white" and feeling in the second half, particularly where you repeat bits. Loved reading this:)
Love this and those memories in your poem! I have not heard of this exactly… I’d assumed it was sweet by the sugo word, but I guess this means something else.. I’m so glad you made it and took photos. That’s awesome! 😎
Sounds delicious, & the memories are precious.
How dare you make me so hungry with your words and photos?! 😫😫😫 But seriously though, that looks sooooo good! You may think I'm nuts, but this is who I am. I tend to favour simple food over the extravagant kind!
Everyone is writing food memories lately. Cathy Holmes posted If I could Taste Memories and Lamar Wiggins posted Memories from the Ghetto (recommend checking out both). Lamar's and yours are like poems written in parallel universes. And all of these posted today! I loved your poem/elegy to your Nonna. The Sugo looks incredible!
A lovely tribute to your Nonna. Sounds yummy. We used to have a morsel of last night’s moussaka or whatever, for breakfast… after cereal. Better fed in those days than today’s lean pickings at my place🙃
That’s so lovely. Those memories are the best ones. I’m also hungry now ☺️ Great poetry!
What a beautiful (and delicious) story! Brought tears. I'm so glad you gave us a glimpse into Nonna and her kitchen. (When I make my spaghetti sauce, before the noodles are done, I get a small bowl and dip with white bread.) I think it's better than with pasta. I am going to say that this will be a winning entry!
Isn't it funny how someone leaves a taste signature in a dish that just can't be reproduced.
Dang Paul it looks like a meal, not a snack! Great poem, well done!’ 😋 Yay for Nona!!
A moving tribute to your Nonna and a clear sign of the extraordinary fecundity of Scottish/Italian fusions--the author being further proof of that himself, if I may be so bold!
Love really does give the food a special flavor. ☺️
I suddenly have a hankering to make my own sauce this weekend! Thanks for giving us a little peek into your childhood, Paul 💕