Let me preface by saying that I do not live in Brooklyn. I was born in Brooklyn. After living in Staten Island for 4 years, my family moved to Jersey where we’ve been ever since. But my roots are in Brooklyn.
Many moons ago, a couple named Maria and Alessandro moved from Naples, Italy to America with their five children.
My mother, Carmela, met my father, Lorenzo, in Brooklyn. They were both born in Italy.
Fast forward to my parents having four children of their own. Neil, Victoria, Maria (me), and Joseph. Growing up in New Jersey, every Wednesday we would make the hour long trip into Brooklyn to visit my nonna and nonno for dinner. It was always the same thing, Pasta Fagioli and Pizza Patate, which is not at all like what you’d order at the Olive Garden. I didn’t appreciate the food and family then as much as I do now.
In the backyard of my grandparent’s Brooklyn home was a garden. It grew rampant with tomatoes, basil, and arugala. And right in the center was a giant fig tree. You wouldn’t think such a tree would be found in Brooklyn, but my grandpa insisted. And it thrived.
Years later, even after the death of both of my grandparents, even after no one took care of it anymore, the tree still grows and produces its fruit every August. The roots of that tree are strong, as are those of my Italian American family.
This is a blog about family.
About Italian cooking. About my passions of family, fitness and fashion. About the our lives as a married couple and homeowners.
And most recently, about the lives of new parents. ❤ ❤
This is a blog about roots.