Easter Memories in Carroll Gardens

Going to Ebel’s Ice Cream Parlor on Court Street a very long time ago with my Nonny. They had a beautiful window that they decorated with Easter baskets and chocolate eggs.

Marzipan lambs peeking through the windows at Court Pastry and Monteleone.

Looking behind the furniture for a hidden Easter basket.

Walking to Montague Street to watch the chicks hatch at Brooklyn Union Gas.

Making little palm crosses after Mass on Palm Sunday and bringing intricately-braided palm crosses to the cemetery.

My sister inviting a dear Jewish friend for Palm Sunday and making hamentashen and kugel for him.

My mom making us clean the house, polish furniture, wax floors, and change curtains as if Jesus himself was coming for Easter dinner.

Shopping for the ingredients for pizza rustica, chopping the ingredients for pizza rustica, making the dough for pizza rustica, baking pizza rustica, and finally waiting to be able to eat pizza rustica, after the fast, each task done with my mom.

Getting a new Easter outfit (maybe not every year) from A&S or Erwin’s on Fifth Avenue, complete with a straw hat, patent leather shoes, and an embroidered pocketbook from Frank’s Department Store. And the perfect photo that my mother-in-law took one year of my two sons wearing their new Easter suits.

Receiving a piece of a delicious sweet spaghetti pie from Little Grace and then getting the recipe and making it every year since.

Holy Week on the 4:30 movie and watching The Ten Commandments with my dad on Easter night.

Looking to see whose feet the priest would wash on Holy Thursday and watching everyone zigzagging around the neighborhood in order to visit three churches that night.

Ringing the night bell at Mazzola to buy a hot lard bread to enjoy on the way home from church on Holy Thursday before the Good Friday fast began at midnight.

Making pizza grana (grain pie) for the first time with my mom and mistakenly starting out with uncooked grain. It yielded so much, we were baking pies until one in the morning.

Stretching out an individual single egg Easter bread to last for breakfast and lunch for the Good Friday “fast.”

Paying my respects to the statue of Jesus lying at the foot of the altar, surrounded by candles and lilies, at the Cabrini Chapel on Good Friday, with Mario Buono the sacristan keeping watch.

Ordering pizza and calzone (no ham!) from the House of Pizza and Calzone after the 3:00 PM services on Good Friday but before the procession.

Walking in the Good Friday procession with friends or classmates or my Girl Scout troop and sometimes walking for a very special intention. Passing by all the houses on the procession route that were decorated with lights or simple crosses. And turning the corner of DeGraw and Henry Streets on that route and, each year, bumping into the same much-loved neighbors. And the always profound silence of the crowd as Jesus and Mary come together three times at the end of the procession and are then carried inside the church.

Buying lily, tulip and hydrangea plants for my mom, Nana, and aunts from local florists and pop-up flower stands on neighborhood corners.

Picking up all the orders for Easter sweet bread and lard bread from Caputo’s and picking up the roast from the butcher on Holy Saturday.

Coloring eggs with my sisters and brother and later with my own children on Holy Saturday.

Waiting with anticipation for the last reading of the Easter Vigil to end, for the bells to begin ringing and watching for the statue of the risen Jesus to appear. And wondering how the purple drapes suddenly disappear from all the saints by the time the lights go on.

Laying out a sumptuous breakfast table on Easter morning with pizza rustica, sweet bread, lard bread, colored eggs, strawberries, and maybe even a few Peeps and chocolate eggs.

Watching my Aunt Angie cut the string on a Court Pastry box which housed a big Easter bread studded with colored eggs which she bought for us every year.

Receiving a homemade grain pie from a wonderful neighbor.

Being fooled into thinking that the rabbit cacciatore that our mom had prepared for Easter dinner was really chicken. And the red stains on the tablecloth from the sauce.

Visiting our relatives around the neighborhood before and after Easter dinner and calling those who lived too far away to visit.

Being able to have whatever it was that I gave up for Lent, be it chocolate, cake, or pizza, and feeling so proud that I was able to stick with the sacrifice.

Some of these memories are very old and some still recur year after year. And since they are my memories, many are food-related. I hope that you also have treasured Easter memories and continue with any Easter traditions you may have. Happy Easter! Buona Pasqua to all!