Every holiday in our house starts the same way, somebody walks in the door yelling:
“WHERE’S YOUR ANTIPAST?!”
Not antipasto… AntiPAST.
That’s what my family calls it, and if this giant bowl isn’t sitting on the table before dinner, people start getting nervous
My father made this every holiday, every family party, or honestly anytime we just wanted a little AntiPAST. It’s the golden grand prize before the real meal even starts.
Cold, juicy, salty, cheesy perfection with all the jar juices mixed together at the bottom for dipping that twisted Italian bread into… forget about it
This recipe is in her cookbook
Every step, her photograph of it, and the person in the family it came from. It is not anywhere else on this site.
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