Out of the dietary strictures of the Catholic Church and the peasant customs of large communal meals, Italians created the centuries-old tradition of the Feast of the Seven Fishes for La Vigilia di Natale (Christmas Eve). Since the Church decreed Christmas Eve to be a vigilia di magro, a day of abstaining from eating meat, fishing families along Italy's southern coast -- or anyone who haunted the fish markets on December 24 -- could put together a large variety of seafood dishes for a festive meal.

The number seven is given at least seven interpretations: the seven sacraments of the Catholic Church; the seven days of the week before Christmas; the seven winds of Italy; the seven wonders of the world; the seven deadly sins; the seven days it took for Mary and Joseph to travel to Bethlehem; and even the seventh day, when God rested from his labors. Still more "sevens" are the seven virtues, the seven hills of Rome, and the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

But wait, there's more. In that defining culinary tendency to abundance, Italians in the Abruzzo region prefer nine fish dishes (the Holy Trinity times three or the months of Mary's pregnancy). And in other southern regions, 12 or even 13 courses are served, numbering Christ's disciples, with or without counting Judas or Jesus. There are even rumors of 24 fishes -- the multiples are endless when you want to keep on eating.

Most of the Christmas Eve traditions that are still maintained in Italy originated in the Campania region, and coincidentally, many of Rhode Island's Italian immigrants came from that area, which includes Naples, Caserta, Capri, and Marzano. My friend, Marie, whose family is Neapolitan, goes to her cousin's house in Johnston each Christmas Eve (along with her Jewish gourmand husband) for a feast of many, many fish dishes. A conversation with her cousin, Barbara Russo, gave me another insight into the numbers game of this ritual: whether you count by seven or 12, you can count the different kinds of fish and seafood while also using each one in numerous dishes. Aha, the table groans even more!

Russo, for example, uses salted cod, baccala, in a salad drizzled with olive oil and lots of fresh lemon juice and parley; in fish cakes -- served with fresh lemon wedges; and in a marinara sauce simmered with olives and toasted pine nuts. She brings that red sauce to a slight boil and drops in the cod pieces, which she has soaked in water for four days, changing the water two or three times a day, until the fish is nice and plump, and, in her words, "revived." She then finishes the cod and tomato sauce dish in the oven, with breadcrumbs on top.

Russo cans her own cherry peppers in the summer, and for Christmas Eve, she stuffs them with canned Italian tuna and capers. Also on the antipasto platter, she lays out a circle of her home-roasted red and green peppers, like a Christmas-colored wreath, and a mound of her home-pickled cauliflower. She makes her own snail salad ("I want to pick out all the black stuff") and shrimp cocktail. Other appetizers are stuffed mushrooms, crab cakes, and clams casino.

Pasta sauces at the Russos include an aglio e olio with baby shrimp, scallops, clams, and squid, and a homemade tomato sauce into which Barbara drops previously stir-fried, silver-dollar-sized octopus and lets it cook for an hour. She may also make a vodka cream sauce with scallops and shrimp this year. Sometimes she also adds langostino meat to one of the sauces.

Squid is popular on Christmas Eve, both fried and in squid salad (with plenty of lemon and garlic). Russo remembers her mother also making squid stew. One of her strongest food memories is of her grandmother standing next to a tub of smelts and frying them all night on Christmas Eve for the 40 people at her house, seated on wooden-plank benches, sipping wine from jelly glasses. "Those are great memories and I just want to keep it up," she says.

Certainly, she does maintain this tradition. After a hiatus from cooking eel on Christmas Eve, Russo plans to do it the "old way" this year: blanch the eel to pull the skin off, roll it in flour and lightly fry it, before sticking it in the oven. Russo prepares chunks of whiting in the same way, but she beer-batters scrod, browns it lightly, then lets it bake a bit before serving it with angel hair pasta and broccoli rabe.

So, counting up the kinds of seafood (are scrod and baccala in the same category?), I make it 12. But Russo especially enjoys telling me about the 13th, the lox she puts on the table for cousin Marie's Jewish husband, who quips: "It's so huge and orange, you can almost hear Middle Eastern music coming out of the plate."

Desserts include assorted roasted nuts, dates stuffed with cream cheese, dried figs stuffed with nuts, large trays of Italian cookies made by Russo's daughter, a sliced chocolate-pecan coated apple from Mrs. Prindable, and a birthday cake for the Baby Jesus. Asked about the three days of preparation for 14 guests, Russo says heartily, "It's a wonderful night and I truly enjoy it. Everyone that comes really enjoys it, too."

If you don't have an Italian family that will adopt you, you can try the Feast of the Seven Fishes at Mediterraneo next year. During one presentation (offered December 9 this year), the marinated seafood salad, with baby squid, shrimp, scallops and snails, was bright with lemon juice; the red-broth soup thick with littlenecks, lobster, crab and fish; the spaghetti rich with clams and garlic. The other traditional courses were baked baccala (still salty, but good), mixed fried fish (the smelts were very light and non-greasy), baked sole in lemon juice and olive oil (also light and delicate), and oven-roasted eel, with potatoes, tomatoes and olives. Excellent Italian wines are paired with each course. (Call 401-331-7760 for more information). Mangia, mangia! And Buon Natale!

Issue Date: December 20 - 26, 2002