Food rules on Joe's Day

Happy St. Joseph's Day to all you regular Joes and Josephines -- and Jo Anns and Jolines -- out there.

In case you didn't know it, today's is your day. No Bobs or Emmy Lous today. Just us Joes.

Sure, some of you may still be recovering from St. Patrick's Day. But green beer and green mashed potatoes and green just about anything you can imagine doesn't come close to the eats on St. Joseph's Day.

You may be wondering about the specialties of a St. Joseph's Day feast. But first a bit about the day itself.

The Irish have St. Patrick. And the Scots have St. Andrew. And the French have -- well, just about anything they want as long as Americans help them get it. But it was Sicilians who originated most of the hoopla on this, the feast day of St. Joseph in liturgical churches in the West.

In the Middle Ages, there was a severe drought in Sicily that resulted in a famine. Sicilians asked their patron saint, Joseph, to intercede on their behalf, and their prayers were answered with plentiful rainfall.

To honor St. Joseph, the Sicilians prepared a huge feast, and that feast is recalled today at St. Joseph's altars or tables. Italians, including those who immigrated to America, have continued the tradition of preparing enormous amounts of food and making elaborate displays at the main altar of parish churches. After the St. Joseph's Day Mass, the food is distributed to the needy.

Dishes prepared with lentils and dried beans are particularly popular on St. Joseph's Day, but on this special day the minestrone is made without Parmesan cheese and is served with dry toasted bread crumbs, a reminder of a carpenter's sawdust. Indeed, no cheese -- a staple of Italian cuisine -- is served on St. Joseph's Day.

In communities where Americans with Italian roots have settled, elaborate St. Joseph's Day altars and tables are as much a tradition as wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. And, just as most Americans become Irish for St. Pat's, many Americans become Italian long enough to enjoy the bounty of a St. Joseph's Day table -- when they are near a parish celebrating the day with special festivities.

But Joe. You're Irish. Why isn't your column about St. Patrick's Day?

Yes, I'm Irish. And Scottish. And English. And a whole lot of German, thanks to a bunch of Wirtmillers in my family tree.

And I like St. Patrick's Day. I really do. No one was more Irish than I was Wednesday night as I watched the three Irish tenors singing for a Belfast audience. When the program reached the finale, "Ireland, Mother Ireland," I can't imagine there was a dry eye in the house. Not my house anyway.

But I'm a Joe first.

When I was just a tot just after World War II, my mother worked in St. Louis while my father completed a Navy tour. I spent my days with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet at Guardian Angel Day School in South St. Louis.

One of the nuns, Sister Joseph, took a special interest in me, the only other Joe in the building. She taught me to kneel without sitting on my heels. She taught me to make the sign of the cross. (I thought my forehead was my name-a-da-father until I was in grade school.) She tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me how to tie my shoes. She taught me that the trash incinerator next to the playground was a glimpse of hell. And I believed her.

In memory of Sister Joe, happy St. Joseph's Day.

Let's eat.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.