ROUSES_MarApr2019_Magazine-R

hen I was a child, we would always have large Italian family gatherings on Sundays in Marrero, Louisiana — or for the big holidays, in Thibodaux. Our family name, Rouse, was taken by my great grandfather when he immigrated to the United States

from Sardinia, Italy. Our original family name is Palma. Being an Italian family, we always had more pastas, sauces, grilled vegetables, baked fishes and homemade stuffed artichokes lining stoves, countertops and tables than any 10 fami- lies could ever eat. But we sure tried! Of all the foods in all the family feasts, the thing I enjoyed the most was a homemade anchovy bread that my parents made. I can still remember the dough being kneaded and rising, and the childhood anticipation of seeing it stuffed with anchovies and chunks of Romano cheese. It was topped with olive oil and Parmesan. There is something about homemade food that can bring you back to a place, make it as real today as it was 40 years ago. That anchovy bread was always my favorite part of the day. We would usually have it with my father’s spaghetti, and I used to enjoy dipping it in the sauce and eating it that way. Not everybody liked it, but I’d even take it home and eat it just like that the next day. I loved it hot or cold. When I make it myself today, I use more anchovies and Romano than most people might put in it! I love the flavor of the salt and cheese. Nowadays, when we make it, we use Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix and make the bread according to the recipe. It is a good replacement or alternative for French bread. For those Sunday meals, there was one long table in the house, with 20 people crowded around it — all talking, laughing, reaching for a bowl or plate of whatever was being served. And that’s the way we did it: as a family. We ate together and shared together. We did that throughout my parents’ lives, and even now, after they’ve passed, we still have those meals — and when there’s pasta, we always have that anchovy bread. When my family talks about my late father, we always come back to a few things. How hard he worked. (My dad could do anything, from farming to the store’s electrical work.) How, for 60 years, he and my mother would go dancing every Saturday night with a few other couples in Thibodaux — how they loved to dance! And of course, my father’s love of cooking. Oysters were a staple in the Rouse household. My dad would get them from Poochie, a close friend of his, and uncle to my niece Ali on her mom’s side. Poochie got his name, Ali says, because

Pictured left: Donny Rouse and father Donald; top right: Blake Richard and uncle Donald Rouse; second from top right: Cindy Acosta, Ali Rouse Royster and Jeaneen Rouse; third from top right: Tim Acosta and sons Nick and Chris

EVERYDAY