Joe Mancari

Joe Mancari

Want to be remembered by your (kid’s) teacher forever?  Give good gifts.  Apples, chocolates, “world’s greatest teacher” mugs?  Sucky!  I’ll always remember Joe Mancari.  His family makes sopressata every December.  They distribute most of it to friends, and gorge themselves silly with the rest.  I got a Mancari family sausage for Christmas.  A week later Joe says “what do you think we do with a body after a hit?”.  I lost my appetite for Mancari sopressata.  I’m not a big fan of cannibalism.  The remainder of the sausage sat untouched in the back of the fridge, spinning a cocoon of mold.  The following Christmas I wrapped the moldy sausage in a green and red box, stuck a lacy bow on it, and gave it back to Joe.

Another year passed.  I was Joe’s teacher again.  He gave an even better gift.  He sent his grandfather over to fix my toilet.  That’s not some kind of mafia jargon.  Grandpa really came over to my house, unbolted the toilet, and replaced the wax seal.

The Mancari’s are alright, regardless of how they make their sausage.  And anyways, who really wants to know what goes into sausage?