re: St. Joseph Altar

Article by Loyola University NOLA:

If you find yourself wandering into an Italian restaurant in New Orleans on March 19, you may be surprised to find it unusually crowded, with people standing around chatting loudly, exchanging recipes, drinking, and enjoying an assortment – no doubt a plateful – of fresh Italian treats. But beyond the crowds of people, you may find a large, three-layered altar dedicated to St. Joseph, heavily adorned by Catholic iconography, elaborate pastries, dozens of fava beans, cakes, candles, plants, and many more. The feast day of St. Joseph is one of the most important days for Italian Americans, and the St. Joseph’s Altar has become the hallmark symbol of this celebration. The St. Joseph’s Altar takes weeks of preparation and is typically a means of bringing the Italian community together to celebrate their heritage and, of course, eat. Traditionally the altar has three levels, representing the Trinity, adorned with statues of each member of the Holy Family. Food covers the altar in gratitude to St. Joseph for alleviating hunger, representing abundance. It is traditional for the remaining edible portions of the altar to be donated to give back to the community. This celebration is said to have originated in New Orleans as a result of Italian immigration in the early 1800s. The altar stood as a testament to all the traditions and practices passed down from generations before, but soon the altar itself became a tradition to pass on and celebrate. For my family, the altar has remained an important reminder of where we come from, and it has been the responsibility of each generation to continue the practices and stories of their predecessors. No matter how young I was, my grandparents always found it important that I be a part of the preparation and celebration.

One of the essential components of the altar are the various fig creations which decorate it. Figs could appear in a variety of different confections, from cakes, to bread, to large ornamental work-of-art pastries resembling famous Catholic symbols. Most common among them are the cuccidati, what people often call “Italian fig cookies,” the bite-sized treats with a fig filling that are typically decorated with frosting and sprinkles. The recipe that my family uses for our fig cookies has been passed down for generations, but in 1996 my grandmother decided to write the recipe down for the very first time. From there, the recipe has been passed down, to my mother, and now to me. But the generational tradition of passing down this and other recipes is not solely about the food. Learning to cook and bake with my family has always meant learning a history lesson. Almost as important as the recipe itself are the stories that interconnect with each and every different creation. When growing up and learning to make the cuccidati with my grandmother, she would tell me stories of her own mother and grandmother. Now, my mother and I discuss my grandmother in the same way in the kitchen, often reciting some of the stories she would tell us or telling our own stories and memories of her. The kitchen has become a hub of family history in our family, with everything from recipes to utensils being family heirlooms. The fig cookies serve as a small but tangible reminder of my own role in the preservation of my family’s history