She had never seen the Godfather. So I made her a meal she couldn’t refuse.
When Steebo told me that she had never seen the Godfather, I felt a dinner coming on. I had always liked the first two Godfather films, but I found a new appreciation for them upon reading a fascinating article in Vanity Fair. The article recounts the turbulent making of the film in the face of opposition from the mob. The classic’s stormy creation is a saga in itself.
A screening of the Godfather is a great excuse to make an indulgent Italian feast that seems to go on forever. I write not to analyze the movie, but to recount my own effort to cook a meal that could somehow measure up to its greatness.
I initially figured on a couple courses during the film. As it turns out, life imitated art, and the meal soon took on a tumultuous life of its own. As I shopped that afternoon with a vague menu in my mind, my ambition and attitude grew. I invited a few friends over and cobbled a menu together. By the end of the evening, I felt downright Italian, more hotheaded Sonny than steely Michael or the wise Godfather.
