'Nonnas' Hold Secret to St. Rocco's Feast

There is general agreement the eggplant is simply to-die for, reason enough to travel the miles to St. Rocco's Feast, which concludes its 76th renewal Sunday.

Some argue the sausage and peppers come from another world, far beyond Glen Cove. Others claim the meatballs were sent from Heaven, perhaps by way of the Brooklyn of old.

These accolades are well deserved, but to stop there would shortchange the pasta with garlic and oil, the pastas with clam sauce, vodka sauce and meat sauce, all prepared by an indefatigable team known as the "Nonnas."

And they have secrets.

The oldest of the women is 90. Most are in their 70s and 80s now, armed with recipes handed down through the generations, traced back like a family tree to an old country that even predates Brooklyn.

"The recipes are secret; the Nonnas don't give them out," said Reggie Spinello, the chairman of St. Rocco's Feast. "People have asked for them, a restaurant guy once asked, but they wouldn't tell."

That's right: the Nonnas maintain an oath of silence, a culinary omertà.

This is actually a concern among insiders at St. Rocco's, who wonder if the next generation of Italian cooks will come forward with the family recipes. In the take-out age of two-family earners and shrinking dinner hours, who will carry on?

These grandmas start cooking in May, one batch at a time and then packed in freezers for the feast. They make some 6,000 meatballs. Another 3,000 pounds of sausage are special ordered, lower in fat and longer than usual. The pasta options are staggering. It's all homemade but, unless you harbor "the secrets," don't try this at home.

Tens of thousands attend each year. Lines stretch outside the door of the Madonna Room and onto 3rd Street, filled with people waiting to be served. Nearby roads are closed off and converted to a carnival of street vendors. They sell religious statuary and Italian flags, zeppoles and Italian ices. The festival's streets, like the church itself, are designed in the shape of a Cross.

As the line moves steadily, the hungry hear distant howls from the traveling thrill rides of Newton Shows. The East Northport company traces its family-owned origins to parish carnivals of Brooklyn and Queens, dating back to the 1950s.

The aromas hit you as you walk inside the church hall. The Nonnas greet you from behind their masterpieces. They also serve the dishes, standing for hours to feed the multitudes.

"Some of them won't leave their stations," said Spinello, who was baptized in this church and is now a member of the City Council. "They just won't give up their posts."

Church leaders begin planning the event in January, and Spinello marshals some 300 volunteers nightly for the six-day feast.

"It's really home to us, and there is a faith piece to all of this," said Spinello. "People take the week off from work to help us because we are keeping faith with our Italian traditions."

That includes nightly prayer inside the century-old church, where a large group assembled Saturday at dusk to recite the Rosary in Italian.

"We are getting the young people involved," said Luigi Greco, the youth group director, whose team of 45 teenagers volunteer for hours in the Maddona Room to help feed the visitors.  

On Sunday, Mass will be celebrated at 10:15 a.m. Greco's children's choir will perform. The traditional outdoor procession follows at noon, when the statue of St. Rocco is wheeled through the streets of Glen Cove. The faithful will pin offerings and personal articles to the vestments adorning the patron saint of incurable diseases. The feast resumes at 3 p.m. and ends at 10.

It's your last chance this year to try The Tripe. Fans go through 600 pounds of it each year.

Yes: The Tripe. So good it should be written in the upper case. The uninitiated can look it up here, but some secrets are better known only upon the palate.