Fasting during Lent? Tell that to the Italians ∣ Ervolino

My friend Anthony Scillia went to the Allendale Bar & Grill on the afternoon of Friday, Feb. 24.

I know this because, a few hours later, he posted a mouth-watering photo on his Facebook page.

Above it, he shared the following description of his meal: “Blackened yellow fin tuna sandwich with spicy chili sauce, avocado, tomatoes and spinach. Perfect for a Lenten Friday lunch!”

(Yes, Feb. 24 was the first Friday of Lent.)

Anthony’s photo made my mouth water. It was also a not-so-subtle reminder of something that I consider to be one of Life’s Basic Truths: Italians have never grasped the concept of fasting.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with such things, Lent is an annual Christian observance, most often described as “solemn.”

As Wikipedia describes it, Lent commemorates “the 40 days Jesus Christ spent fasting in the desert and enduring temptation by Satan … before beginning his public ministry.”

I showed that sentence to my very Italian bodybuilder cousin Manny “Muscles” Marinara, and all he saw was the word “dessert,” which isn’t even in the sentence.

There I was picturing Jesus and his followers on a large expanse of white sand. And there Vinny was imagining a strawberry cheesecake, two cannoli and a double espresso.

As for fasting: According to WebMD, “it means to stop eating completely, or almost completely, for a certain stretch of time.”

Throughout history, different forms of Lenten sacrifice — including sexual abstinence — have been practiced by Christians around the world.

It’s part of our faith.

Abstaining from intimate acts was encouraged during the Middle Ages but was phased out over time, by popular demand.

Most Christians were expected to give up something else, though, and this is one of the Lenten traditions I grew up with.

Every year, I did my best to abstain from chocolates and other candies, which pleased my Italian Catholic mother and ticked off my Russian Jewish dentist.

“I’m doing this to please my mother,” I told Dr. Minkin.

“Oh, and what am I?” he responded. “Chopped liver?”

One year, my father suggested that I give up comic books for Lent. And that seemed like a great idea, because I liked comic books a thousand times more than I liked candy.

So, every week, I headed to my two favorite stationery stores, bought six or seven comic books, brought them home and stashed them away.

One afternoon, my father caught me redhanded.

“I thought you gave that junk up for Lent,” he yelled.

I haughtily escorted him to my bedroom closet, where a bunch of comic books were resting comfortably in an old navy-blue shoebox.

“I gave up READING comic books,” I explained. “I didn’t give up BUYING them.”

To me, this was a win-win situation. For the first time, I was giving up something that I really loved. Win No. 2: After Easter, I had more than 25 comic books to catch up on.

It was thrilling.

I also grew up in a household with a No Meat on Friday rule.

(As a onetime McDonald’s employee, I can assure you that the rumors are true: Meatless Fridays really did lead to the creation of the Filet-O-Fish sandwich.)

The snag: As you may know, most Italians LOVE fish, which is all we eat at our traditional Christmas Eve suppers — a meal as elaborate as our traditional Thanksgiving dinners.

Today, my younger brother shares my love for seafood, but he didn’t always feel that way. As a child, the only things he ever wanted to eat were ravioli and frankfurters.

One Friday night, he pushed away the plate my mother had placed in front of him and yelled, “I want a hot dog!”

My incensed mother screamed and said, “It’s Friday! We’re suffering! Eat your lobster tails!”

Oh, the agony.

The following Friday, we really suffered with a stew made from crab legs, clams, mussels and snapper served over linguine with a lush white wine-saffron zabaglione.

Mind you, our Fridays weren’t just about seafood.

In third grade, while my Irish Catholic friends were showing up at school every Friday with their soggy tuna salad sandwiches, my brown bag contained a zucchini-tomato frittata, some crusty (and very rustic) Italian bread, a small triangular wedge of provolone piccante and a slightly acidic pinot grigio.

As I’ve observed on more than one occasion, when my Jewish friends fast, they look frail and ashen for days.

When Italians fast, we have to lie down after dinner, undo our belt buckles and take a snooze.

Now, don’t get me wrong: Italians are some of the best Christians I know. They go to church regularly, raise their children to be respectful of others and give generously to the needy.

But, when it comes to fasting, we’re kinda slow.

Should any paisans feel the need to storm my office and complain about this column, feel free to stop on by.

And bring something tasty.

This article originally appeared on NorthJersey.com: How Italians fast during Lent - Ervolino