Italian-a Super-a Bowl-a *hand gesture*

Food is not my strong suit. Sports are not my strong suit. So you'd think the Super Bowl and the celebration around it wouldn't be my strong suit as well. And for the most part you're right. If I'm invited to a big game party, I'm usually awkwardly trying to identify the aspects of football that seem familiar, looking for the plainest chicken wings or the cheese-est pizza, and I have a generally okay time (not at your parties though, Wolfie, you are the best). However, in my times at my parents' place, I am thriving.

My mother makes the best chicken parmesan, and she isn't even remotely Italian (well maybe remotely, but I haven't gotten my 23andMe results back yet). I request it every year for my birthday, and if I'm around for a special occasion, you know chicken parm is on the menu. I don't know what it is about it that I love so much because it's just regular Publix-brand chicken with some generic bread crumbs and spaghetti on the side with regular red sauce. However, it is better than anything I've had in any of the finest Italian restaurants, and my dad loves to show off his economic status, so I've had experience.

With all that said, I feel myself more than ever when I'm saddled up to the TV, football game blasting over the speakers, and I've got a knife and fork in each hand with a paper towel in my shirt like a bib ready to dive into Italy's gift to cuisine. What makes it better for me is my father, mother, and sister all in position beside me looking the exact same. We smile and eat, listening to my dad talk about what is going right and wrong in the game, while my mom and sister laugh at the egregiously expensive commercials. I guess it helps bring my family together more than any actual Super Bowl game would.

Chicken parm so nice, you gotta hear me talk about it twice.

Food is not my strong suit. Sports are not my strong suit. So you'd think the Super Bowl and the celebration around it wouldn't be my strong suit as well. And for the most part you're right. If I'm invited to a big game party, I'm usually awkwardly trying to identify the aspects of football that seem familiar, looking for the plainest chicken wings or the cheese-est pizza, and I have a generally okay time (not at your parties though, Wolfie, you are the best). However, in my times at my parents' place, I am thriving.

My mother makes the best chicken parmesan, and she isn't even remotely Italian (well maybe remotely, but I haven't gotten my 23andMe results back yet). I request it every year for my birthday, and if I'm around for a special occasion, you know chicken parm is on the menu. I don't know what it is about it that I love so much because it's just regular Publix-brand chicken with some generic bread crumbs and spaghetti on the side with regular red sauce. However, it is better than anything I've had in any of the finest Italian restaurants, and my dad loves to show off his economic status, so I've had experience.

With all that said, I feel myself more than ever when I'm saddled up to the TV, football game blasting over the speakers, and I've got a knife and fork in each hand with a paper towel in my shirt like a bib ready to dive into Italy's gift to cuisine. What makes it better for me is my father, mother, and sister all in position beside me looking the exact same. We smile and eat, listening to my dad talk about what is going right and wrong in the game, while my mom and sister laugh at the egregiously expensive commercials. I guess it helps bring my family together more than any actual Super Bowl game would.