I had long wanted to visit Sant’Andrea Apostolo dello Ionio, my father's birthplace. Though I had learned much from my grandparents, who shared with me many of their wonderful memories over the years, in order to truly understand their story, I needed to witness life...
It was the night before our departure for Rome and there were two things on our minds: 1. We're going to sorely miss our Sant'Andrea family. The took such great care of us, and we shared many laughs. It was heartbreaking to know we wouldn't be...
As I mentioned, Nino hinted that he had the cheese but wouldn't give it to us unless we came for lunch. We would have gone anyway, but getting our hands on the cheese was an added incentive. If he didn't have it, he would at...
One thing about Italian drivers -- they're nuts. And if you abide by the rules, they think you're nuts. We quickly learned in our 10-hour trip from Rome to Sant'Andrea to move out of the left lane if anyone was behind us, because no matter how...
I remember meeting Nino once or twice as a kid when he visited by grandparents' house. They called him "Travolta" because he often boasted about his dancing skills. His hair was also usually combed in "Saturday Night Fever" style. That was a long time ago, and...
This pecorino has a past. In the late '60s, Uncle Al, hoping that he could tame the odor, wrapped and rewrapped several round slabs Poppy had requested and stuffed them in a bag. The cheese went through Customs safely. His clothes that shared the bag, however,...
