I spent my weekend in Connecticut at my cousin’s wedding. I haven’t been around that many Italians in probably 25 years. Here’s a few notes from an Italian wedding:
You will eat fresh tomatoes with basil and mozzarella and you will like it.
If a short older woman wearing big glasses asks you “What are you doing?” – don’t answer, it’s a rhetorical Italian question.
We’ll let the Irish in but only if they’re married to an Italian.
After raising your glass you always say “salud”.
At some point in the night you will find yourself talked into doing a shot and toasting to being Italian and being from Brooklyn. You look behind you to see your mom doing the same.
You find yourself eating to Frank Sinatra.
In an Italian wedding you dance a little, eat a little ravioli, dance a little, eat some more.
All of us thick-haired Italian women that showed up with blown dry hair ended up leaving the outdoor portion of the wedding with a hairstyle twice as large.
At some point some relative will ask you to take the wine glass away from another relative that probably enjoys the vino a little too much.
One of your cousins admits to stealing a piece of the table decor and then asks you to help in her plan of stealing the entire centerpiece.
The table of all-Brooklyn-but-one quickly let the Bronx know he was an outlander.
Understand that you will eat pignoli nuts at some point during the night.
At least once every 5 minutes you hear someone reply with ‘fuhgeddaboutit’.
Somewhere in the room you know there is a man named Vinnie.
You catch half the table singing along to Autumn in New York.
Something on the hors d’ouvres table WILL be wrapped in proscuitto.
