Proudly Italian: A Heritage That Lives in Our Kitchen

October is Italian American Heritage Month, and for me, it’s not just a time of recognition — it’s a celebration of who we are, where we came from, and how our story continues to be told through food, family, and tradition.

Like so many others, our ancestors came to America through Ellis Island, carrying little more than faith, determination, and a few family recipes tucked away in their hearts. They faced unthinkable hardships, but they built a life — brick by brick, — in the boroughs of Brooklyn, New York. My mother and my wonderful Aunt grew up in East New York, surrounded by a tight-knit Italian community where neighbors were like family, and the smell of sauce simmering on the stove was as much a part of the neighborhood as the sound of kids playing stickball in the street.

They often share stories that feel like something out of a black-and-white film — tales of laughter, loud gatherings, and sweets like struffoli, sfogliatella, and of course, the beloved zeppole (Ah, madone!). My great-grandfather made his own wine in the basement, and that homemade vino was a fixture at every gathering — a symbol of pride, patience, and the simple joy of creating something by hand to be shared with family and friends. These stories aren’t just family memories; they are living reminders of our heritage — the thread that ties generations together.

In our kitchen, there is no question of our heritage. On any given Sunday, you can find me in Nonna’s kitchen, singing along to Angelina / Zooma Zooma by Louis Prima — much to Nonna’s dismay. Without fail, she’ll shoot me a sideways Maloik (the evil eye) and mutter “Stazza zit!” if I dare interrupt her favorite show with my performance. Meanwhile, Mckenna just rolls her eyes with the kind of patience only generations of Italian women can master, stirring the Sunday sauce like she’s been doing it for a hundred years.

These little moments — the music, the food, the laughter, the traditions — they are more than just memories. They are our legacy. Every loaf we bake, every dish we share, carries a piece of the people who came before us. It’s in our blood, our hands, and our hearts.

Being Italian American means taking pride in where we came from and understanding the importance of never letting our heritage fade. Food is more than sustenance for Italians — it’s love, connection, and storytelling. Sharing those flavors, those traditions, with others is one of life’s greatest gifts.

So this month, and every month, we celebrate our ancestors, our culture, and our kitchen — a place where the past and present come together beautifully. Because for Italians, feeding people isn’t just what we do — it’s who we are.