Raised in an Italian family from birth, I’ve only known a houseful of boisterous, intentional, opinionated people. High-pitched voices, outburst of laughter, and people who love their faith, family and food; this describes my big Italian family. I especially remember the Sunday after-church meals. My mother, Ann Fiorino, loved lavishing her table with Mostaccioli, as we called it in those days. Red sauce loaded with Italian meatballs and Italian sausage smothered the Mostaccioli, hot Italian bread right out of the oven sent drifts of yeast thourghout the kitchen, and a big Italian salad with artichokes and pepperoncinis laid accross the top, set our mouths salivating. These were the afternoons that we cherished!
Everyone should be able to experience special times with their families, times that outlive the years we are together, times that mold us and make us who we are. Italians love to keep traditions, hand down the recipes they love, kiss the babies, pinch their cheeks, and make the memories none of us can forget. I love my big Italian family, and when my children are around my table loving the food, sharing their stories with everyone shouting to be heard, I am reminded how blessed I am to see another generation preserving the Italian culture. I say Benvenuto everyone, and Dio vi benedica (God bless you)!
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