Our Ellis Island
Traditions are a form of communication that travel across the space of our memories, into our very being, back to our essence. Our traditions call us home. We each have a history that fills us up with experiences, foods and sounds that are an essential resource. Each time we partake, it reabsorbs, letting our heritage come alive once again. Tradition makes magical that which is profane, turning water into wine. We lift up all of our ancestors in spirit when we share and celebrate these customs. The flavor, the expression unique, it carries the essence all the same. All of our traditions carry these seeds of hope, love and unity. Participation bears the fruit.
Everything at Three Brothers Restaurant is imbued with meaning. It is our home. 60 years of memories are interlaced so intricately together; every table and chair, the walls, windows and flowers so kinetically alive. The blending of our family and our business was so eloquently jointed that life-long friendships were founded there.
We came to America with little more than a suitcase, years of separation ending as we became part of our new American diaspora. We carried with us something so invaluable that it kept us buoyant, pushed us to rise up and stand tall, reminding us and teaching us that faith, “Is the assurance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen.”
Every Christmas I challenged the faith that when I arose, there would be evidence under the tree. Every year, my father reminded us in a thick Serbian accent, “Gee-Zeus received da tree gifts vat va-eye-z men.” (Jesus received three gifts, what wise men.) Three gifts for Jesus equaled three gifts for the Radicevic children, strict constructionism at its best.
St. Nick would come around, as we would leave our boots in the window. The following morning, we would find them stuffed with institutionalized goodies. My prevailing thought was the bounty bore witness as to how good we were, not my father’s wholesale buying capabilities.
The wonder and magic was brought to life by our animated Aunt Sharon; a dazzling phenom who lavished us with stories of travels, toys and adventure.
Spontaneous reminiscence of our childhood paints a cinematographic landscape of images that fill my heart. I flash-back to my father’s hands as he sliced into an Easter leg of lamb: a mahogany dream, barbecued slowly, studded with garlic. The crispy exterior of a slightly smoked crust housed a juicy center. The sweet creaminess of the garlic lended the crescendo. Easter eggs, colored by way of onion skins in various colors of rust, ochre and bronze, laid glistening waiting for the game of tucanje to begin. A game that involved people cracking their eggs against each other. The tradition was a source of friendly competition, where the one whose egg didn’t crack was blessed with good luck. Chocolate walnut torte, thin layers of airy and light nut-based meringue were so deliciously sandwiched between a chocolate cream, that so lovingly clung to each layer. It was stacked eight layers tall and was encased with even more chocolate, ooh-la-la! That creation was the one my family dreamt of and fought over the most. Whole tortes had been carried by homebound family members in their laps over long distances. Yes, the way to the heart is truly through the stomach.
On January 6th, Serbian Christmas Eve, my brother and father spent time together in a straw-strewn cathedral. My mother, sisters and I worked together to prepare the family’s Lenten meal. Christmas Eve dinner was customarily a preparation of fish, Serbian-style beans or pasjule and winter salads of leeks and pickled cabbage. My mother prepared beautiful Lenten cakes, as well as the traditional walnuts, honey and dried fruits. The dinner began, with my father breaking a cenica by hand, a bread that hides a coin inside. If you received the coin it foretold luck for the winner in the coming year. If the coin remained in the loaf, the luck stayed within the family.
The next day was our Christmas Day, and we celebrated midnight mass at St. Sava Cathedral, a work of art filled with the most incredible mosaics. The church was bathed in candlelight, the movement of which danced off those mosaics mimicking a transcendent prayer offered and a blessing received. Christ is born, Hristos se Rodi. Indeed he is, Voistinu se Rodi. We honored the birth of hope of our Lord and the extraordinary potential that his love gifted. The choir enveloped the space, angelic voices unparalleled. Within that moment, both peace and awe coexisted.
On Christmas morning the blessed branch, badnjak, was brought in and lit. The snap, crackle and curling leaves were consumed with our family’s prayers for health, joy and peace in the upcoming year. The feast showcased the expected meals, but welcomed new participants. Roast suckling pig was traditional for Christmas, the impeccably crisp and caramel skin was just delicious. The meat was impossibly tender and succulent. A little skin, a little meat, a little juice, repeat. My mother prepared a fantastic corn dish which defied description. The center was a creamy, pudding-like texture perfumed with corn and milk. As you moved towards the edges, it changed to a soufflé, delicate and bread-like in texture. It confounded me. It was that signature dish everyone kept having just one more spoonful of. Sweet but savory, or maybe savory but sweet. The sugars and starches found their resplendent balance and conducted perfect harmony. The meal was intertwined with wine, more food and the greatest of company. Stretchy pants were a must, when celebrating with Serbians. Time stopped and slowed down, samo polanko, our mantra.
Reverence has been both the heart and the backbone of our family. My family has lived each day profoundly grateful for our freedom. Our faith in a power greater than ourselves is nurtured through worship. Daily, we value our connections and the gratitude we feel for our city and state that has so lovingly supported my family, culture and traditions.
Dorothy says it best in the Wizard of Oz, “There is no place like home.”
From our family to yours — many blessings and much love.
