Good food is worth a thousand words—sometimes more. In My Family Recipe, a writer shares the story of a single dish that's meaningful to them and their loved ones.
Growing up, we had an annual tradition in my family: On the first day of school, my mother would cook us Hungarian goulash for dinner. It’s a slightly confusing tradition for several reasons, foremost being that my mother wasn’t Hungarian. Not even a little bit. Her family was Sicilian-American by way of Brooklyn, and while she did make a lot of conventional American mom food like mac and cheese, chicken cutlets, and something she called “Mexican casserole,” most of what she cooked week to week was inspired by her Italian roots.