Louis:
My family came from all over Italy, according to folks who were trying to follow the family roots, I'd have to ask them next time I visit.
I know for sure that my dad's grandfather was from Sicily, I can't remember where his wife was from or where my mom's mother family was from, but I've heard something about Rome and Bologna, just can't be sure. My mom's father came straight from Piedmont, where he was born and raised, but his family came from Austria. When they say they need to go visit family, they mean they'll roam thru the country for a week or two.
The other questions get more difficult to answer not for lack of information, but because well, we were an Italian family. Since I was 3rd or 4th generation, depending on which side of the family you counted, we did not learn Italian besides the very basics and people did not routinely speak Italian except for the accent. If it was a "special" weekend, well, it was obvious we'd be eating lasagna, or ravioli or gnocchi for example, which are also dishes with meat; if we were talking a busy weekend with lots to do, there'd be fettuccine a la Bolognese, which also has meat in it; but there were plenty of weekends which were not one extreme or another, and then, by Wednesday or Thursday, we would be told there'd be pasta with meatballs, or "macarrão com almôndegas" in Portuguese. That'd would start a discussion until Saturday or Sunday, with some people campaigning for one kind of pasta or another: sometimes ziti or penne, sometimes spaghetti or fettuccini etc. It was a thing of beauty and sheer chaos all rolled up in one, because it was a family affair and everything would be discussed. Someone would be making the tomato sauce while someone was rolling the meatballs (always *way* more meat with only enough breadcrumbs to get the right consistency), other people would be making the pasta. People would be shouting orders and/or opinions about what seasonings, how to cook the pasta etc the entire time. You felt everything from joy to exhaustion, but your family was all together making food to which we would sit and eat and there was nothing more important than the family meals at that point.
*After* the meal was over, it was clear that we had "spaghetti with meatballs" or ziti with meatballs and so on and so forth.
There were also the days when we had pasta with tomato sauce and sausages (cooked in the sauce). Those were more rare, I think the women thought they were more fattening or something.
The funny part were the weekends when the food would be something from a different cuisine. It felt so strange and orderly, there was nothing to discuss or talk about -- we were following a recipe from a printed piece of paper and that was the end of it. No "but *my* grandma made it this way" or "didn't use that spice" or anything else. It was quiet, efficient and peaceful. But somehow it did not feel like *our* family, LOL.
The other funny thing in my family was that we'd be eating one meal, say, lunch, and be already talking about what the menu for the next day or two were going to be. It's funny to me the number of times I've been having a meal with friend's families and they start talking about the menu for next day and I ask "let me guess, y'all Italians?" and they go "how did you know?"
;-)
