Growing up in an Italian-American household was, for me, pretty special. My mother, Gina, an immigrant from Italy, held on to so many of her family's traditions that at times, regardless of the fact that I was living in American, our home felt like in Italy.
To this day, my mother only speaks to me in Italian. She may speak in some English terms and expressions from time to time, but our conversations are, for the most part, in her mother tongue. And most of those conversations are about food. For us, food —Italian food is an important part of our lives. The food my mother prepared for me and my sister as children is the same food my grandmother created in her small farm kitchen high up in the mountains.
One of my family's dishes of heritage I made sure to learn and perfect is my mother's arancini di riso (Italian rice balls). Arancini, in Italian, means little oranges. After you roll some leftover rice into a small ball, place a piece of mozzarella (马苏里拉奶酪 ) in the center, then bread that and fry it, the golden outside resembles one of our favorite fruits. For my family, it also showcased my mother's ability to always find a delicious way to never let anything go to waste: Last night's good rice was repurposed into this perfect mid-day snack or dinner appetizer.
So, when I take a perfect little arancini out of the hot oil and crack it open, I am immediately transported back to my childhood: I am a little girl getting off the bus and running through the back door to the smell of last night's rice transformed into sticky, delicate goodness. This small snack symbolizes so many important elements in my life: my mother's waste-not philosophy, her ability to take a few simple ingredients and transform them, and finally, the way she carried her mother's recipes to the U. S. in her mind and heart so she could, years later, teach me about my heritage through food.
Eating arancini, and all the other recipes my mother continued to make here in the U. S. after leaving Italy, allowed her to teach me who I am, where I come from, and why I should be proud of it all.
