Wishing You Warm Holiday Memories

Holiday memories always warm my heart. This year, I prepare with already peeled garlic, pre-grated cheese, and chopped vegetables from the grocery store, very different from the past. I remember the rituals of my Italian family kitchen—the smells, the sounds, the quiet joy of everyone in their role. Dad would sit at the table, grating parmesan and mozzarella, slicing salami for the antipasto, while Mom moved gracefully around the kitchen, chopping vegetables for Caponata and arranging the antipasto tray with flawless precision. Sometimes my brother and I would sit with Dad, helping to grate the cheese, feeling like we were part of something sacred.

The day always began early, with the tomato sauce simmering on the stove. Waking to that rich, savory aroma meant the holiday had truly begun. Pasta and sauce were always a separate ritual, honored with care, love, and the slow, comforting rhythm that only comes from generations of tradition.

Alongside these Italian specialties, there was always the turkey and its trimmings, a nod to the wider holiday feast. And now, here I am with my grown daughters, who love to cook but usually kick me out of the kitchen—and I let them. Because this, too, is its own kind of sweetness: watching the next generation take joy in the ritual, just as I once did.

Whatever your tradition, I wish you a Thanksgiving—or any holiday—filled with warmth, laughter, and the simple joy of being together.