About Restaurant

Growing up in New York with a Jewish mother and an Italian father, food was always at the center of family gatherings. Each Sunday, with rare exceptions, my entire extended family on my father’s side would gather, early in the day at my grandma Angelina’s home where the cousins would play all day, and the adults would visit against the rich backdrop of familiar and delicious aromas from Grandma’s kitchen. By mid-afternoon, although we had shared similar meals countless times, we all sat down to the huge table with almost giddy excitement and anticipation. If you were lucky, grandma would let you have a pre-dinner sampling of meatball or sausage in the kitchen, or give you a hunk of Italian bread to sample the sauce, which, incredibly enough, seemed more delicious each passing sunday.

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