I come from a long line of pie makers. At holiday times we always look forward to the pumpkin and apple pies that my grandmother (Stephanie Sr., not Philomena), brings to the table. My mother, Joanne, used to bake pies for a country club. She claims that her pie crusts were the best she ever … Continue reading


My grandmother, Philomena, is 88 years old. She was born and raised in South Philadelphia, and, basically, she’s no bullshit. When asked if she would like a new microwave she responded, “What am I gonna do with a new microwave? Take it to hell with me?” Or when my father was dating a girl who … Continue reading