Prep time: 20 minutes / Cook time: 13 minutes / Serves: 6

INGREDIENTS

2 cups broccoli, cut into florets

1 lb. uncooked pasta, rigatoni or penne

3 tbsp. pine nuts

1 cup green olives, pitted

2 cups fresh basil leaves

3 garlic cloves, roughly chopped

3 tbsp. Parmesan cheese, freshly grated

¼ tsp. black pepper, plus extra for seasoning

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

Kosher salt, for seasoning

INSTRUCTIONS

1. Bring a large pot of salted water to a rapid boil. Add the broccoli florets and cook for one minute.
2. Transfer the broccoli to a food processor or blender with a slotted spoon.
3. Bring the water back to a boil and add the pasta, cooking until al dente.
4. Drain the pasta, reserving one cup of the pasta water in a measuring cup. In a small saucepan, cook the pine nuts over medium heat until toasted and fragrant, about 3 minutes.
5. Add the pine nuts to the food processor or blender along with the olives, basil, garlic, cheese, pepper and 1/2 cup of the reserved pasta water. Pulse until well combined.
6. With the processor on, add the olive oil slowly, stopping to scrape the sides as needed, until the pesto is pureed. Season with salt and pepper to taste.
7. In a large bowl, toss the pasta with a desired amount of the pesto, thinning with extra pasta water two tablespoons at a time as needed. Serve.

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By Maria Costanzo, OLMC Lodge-Cleveland 

In January 2025, I attended my first Italian American Future Leaders (IAFL) Convention as a “Fellow” (first-time attendee) over MLK weekend. This year, I returned as an “Alum,” which proved to be its own unique and meaningful experience. From the moment I walked into the hotel lobby, it felt like a big family reunion weekend. People I didn’t expect to remember me did, and we made a point to welcome the new fellows with genuine excitement. The Friday night opening reception is the perfect setting for this. Some of the strongest friendships begin that evening.

Last year, I met people from Middlebury, CT; Chicago, IL; Las Vegas, NV; and San Francisco, CA. A group of us even traveled to Chicago this past August to spend a weekend together celebrating Italian American culture. I was also reunited with friends from Pittsburgh, PA, whom I met while attending a Carnevale party at a Calabrese club. One of those friends was traditional Italian dance instructor Anna Harsh, whose group performed that evening. She later came to Cleveland to host a tarantella workshop with ISDA’s Inizio Lodge.

These friendships and connections that span the country are among the greatest takeaways from IAFL. Over just a few days, strangers become friends, and friends quickly become family. On Saturday morning, as we packed into the Amerant Bank Arena in Sunrise, Fla., I was curious to see how the program would differ from my experience as a fellow the year before. I spent breakfast chatting with ISDA Chaplain Fr. Leo Camurati before joining the other alumni for a series of presentations. Topics ranged from thalassemia and its impact on the Italian community, to a culinary academy in Calabria and its love of n’duja, to Italian American heritage commissions and the Italian American Museum in New York.

After lunch, the alumni participated in a scavenger hunt designed to help us get to know one another, including finding people who, for example, make homemade wine, learned Italian as an adult, or (shockingly) don’t like pasta. Later, alumni took part in an engaging tarantella workshop with Ms. Harsh, while the fellows were taught by her colleague, Salvatore Guglielmo. We learned both the dance steps and the history behind them.

The evening concluded with a bocce tournament hosted by the Bocce Bros of Youngstown, Ohio, along with other games like Scopa. Sunday began with Catholic Mass in the hotel conference room, attended by so many participants that there was standing room only.

Alumni presentations that day explored topics such as what it means to be a 501(c)(3), Italian American “deserts” (areas with few cultural connections), and a historic piazza built in the San Pedro neighborhood of Los Angeles. When we rejoined the fellows, we shared a Mad Lib read aloud in different Italian dialects, with Fr. Leo singing his portion in Latin. We enjoyed the fellows’ short comedic videos produced as part of a social media initiaitve and came together to sing “That’s Life” in honor of IAFL President and Co-Founder John Viola.

The closing celebration once again felt like a 300-person Italian American wedding, complete with karaoke, dancing, and singing “Happy Birthday” to IAFL Co- Founder Pat O’Boyle. One especially meaningful aspect of the weekend unfolded during Saturday and Sunday lunches, when a group of us stayed behind to pray the rosary together. Last year, I was struck by how naturally conversations about faith emerged (sharing favorite saints, attending Mass together, and discussing the role of God in our lives). In September 2025, we formed a WhatsApp group called IAFL Brigata del Rosario, dedicated to praying a trilingual rosary each week together online in English, Italian, and Latin. It has become a place to pray with and for one another, share stories about the Church and the saints, and practice our languages.

Reflecting on how IAFL has impacted me personally, three themes stand out: community, faith, and new endeavors. This community is what brought me back to IAFL. The friendships formed here are lifelong, rooted in a shared passion for Italian heritage and a commitment to passing our traditions on to the next generation. While I was already active in Our Lady of Mount Carmel Parish and its lodge, IAFL gave me a broader opportunity: to share God through service and leadership.

Since returning from IAFL last year, I was asked to join my parish council, where I’ve helped volunteer at events and contribute ideas inspired by insights shared by fellow Italian Americans across the country. Something unexpected over the past year has been my growing involvement in photography and journalism. I was fortunate to write an article about my IAFL experience that was published in both La Nostra Voce and La Serra, a newspaper shared with the town of Coreno in Italy. Since then, I’ve written additional articles for both publications, and my photographs have been used on numerous occasions. I also help document and manage social media for our parish festival at Our Lady of Mount Carmel. Attending IAFL has truly changed my life, empowering me to tell meaningful stories and lead with purpose in my community.

Make a Pledge and join Italian Sons and Daughters of America today. 

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In December 1223, in a rocky grotto near the hill town of Greccio, about 50 miles north of Rome, St. Francis of Assisi staged what is widely considered the first live Nativity scene.

According to tradition, a villager witnessed a miraculous appearance of an infant in the empty manger, embraced by Francis. In the days that followed, the straw from the manger was said to bring healing to animals and to women facing hardship.

By the 18th century, the Neapolitan presepe had become an art form of its own, featuring detailed wooden or terracotta figures arranged in elaborate village scenes. These early Italian traditions laid the foundation for the familiar, inanimate Nativity sets used around the world today. Though no longer “live,” their origins trace directly to Francis’ desire to make the mystery of Christ’s birth tangible and accessible for everyday believers.

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St. Carlo Acutis, a British-born Italian who died from leukemia in 2006 at age 15, earned the nickname “God’s Influencer” and has been deemed the patron saint of social media and the internet.

A technology whiz kid, he taught himself computer science and web design at age 9; he then built a site that cataloged miracles around the globe, and ran websites for Catholic organizations.

“Carlo was the light answer to the dark side of the web,” his mother, Antonia, told The New York Times.

In 2020, he was beatified at a ceremony in the town of Assisi.

In a letter, Pope Francis called him “blessed.”

Roughly 10,000 saints have been recognized by the Roman Catholic Church, but just 120 died as children or teenagers, the National Catholic Register reported.

St. Carlo ranks among one of the youngest saints in the history of the church.

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Memorial Day is a special day for Veterans and their families. It should be for all Americans. It is a day of profound meaning as we remember the selfless service of military men and women who sacrificed their lives defending our freedoms.

What is it that inspires regular citizens to rise to the challenge of battle, to be willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for country? Indeed, a question to ponder.

More than a million American service members gave their lives in war and conflict since the colonial soldiers took up arms in 1775 to fight for independence. All were ordinary people that were loved and cherished by family and friends. Each a loss to the community and the nation.

Memorial Day was once a day when stores closed, and communities gathered together for a day of parades and celebrations with a patriotic theme. It was a day of ceremonies at cemeteries around the country, honoring those who gave their lives. Flags fluttered at half-staff and dignitaries presented wreaths as the chilling sound of Taps floated across burial grounds of combat heroes.

The scenes are different today. For many, Memorial Day is just another three-day vacation break or a shopping spree.

More gather at malls and parks, instead of the hallowed grounds of brave men and women. Nothing is wrong with that picture, except the patriotic core — the spirit of remembrance — signified by this esteemed day, is gone.

Is it because we are living in a time of economic prosperity and relative peace we tend to forget the sacrifices of our military and veterans? It should not be, for they have made such peace and order a reality.

These men and women, buried beneath our feet, answered the call to serve their country and paid with their lives. For this, the least we can do is pause to remember.

This Memorial Day let us not forget what it is all about: the quiet dignity of bygone heroes.

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By Francesca Montillo, ISDA Food + Travel Writer

La Festa Di San Giuseppe

Always held on March 19th, the feast honors Joseph, husband to the Virgin Mary and earthly father to Jesus. It is also the day in which Italy celebrates Father’s Day. And if your name is Joseph or Josephine, you will also be celebrating your “onomastico.”

An onomastico honors your “name,” and St. Joseph, St. Francis, St. Anthony, St. Anne, St. Catherine and so forth, are all celebrated name days in Italy. Not quite a birthday, an onomastico is an occasion for Italians to celebrate with family, friends, and of course, a cake or pastries.

While St. Joseph and Father’s Day are celebrated all over Italy, the feast of St. Joseph is more prominent in Southern Italy, particularly Sicily, where he is the Patron Saint,

St. Joseph is credited to have saved Sicily’s residents during one of their many devastating droughts. Tradition has it that residents prayed to St. Joseph for rain. The rain came, and as such, their spring crops were spared from being destroyed, preventing a widespread famine for Sicily. It is widely believed that this is the reason the celebration is held in March.

A traditional “altar” or “St. Joseph’s Table” is also popular in Italy. Placed in private homes, churches, social clubs and even cafes, creating a table for St. Joseph is commonplace. Many Italians brought that tradition with them to the States and while it is less common these days, it is something older Sicilians still take great pride in. The table is filled with gifts, both of food and sentimental ones, offered to the saint in thanksgiving for prayers answered.

Click here for a delicious St. Joseph’s zeppole recipe. 

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On March 14, 1891, prominent New Orleans citizens — including future mayors and governors — led the largest lynch mob ever to assemble on U.S. soil.

Mob conspirators claimed that mafia influence swayed jurors, despite no evidence; and according to History.com, the court proceedings surrounding Chief Hennessy’s murder marked the genesis of Italian American mafia tropes that persist today (from boorish Saturday Night Live sketches, to Hollywood’s repetitive stereotypes).

Despite the outpouring of support, Italian Americans would go on to experience crushing suppression across the U.S. At least 40 more lynchings of Italians took place on U.S. soil, and during WWII, 600,000 Italian immigrants and Italian Americans were deemed enemy aliens by order of the U.S. government — despite the fact that more than one million Italian American soldiers were fighting and dying in Europe and the South Pacific to protect America’s freedoms.

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The North End had long been a haven for immigrants, particularly Italians, who had built a vibrant enclave despite facing significant economic and social challenges. Many residents lived in overcrowded tenements near the waterfront, where the tank stood. Owned by the United States Industrial Alcohol Company, the structure had been hastily built during World War I to supply molasses for the production of industrial alcohol, a key ingredient in munitions.

The disaster occurred at around 12:30 p.m. on an unseasonably warm day. As the tank failed, the molasses wave obliterated everything in its path — buildings, freight cars, and even sections of elevated train tracks. Among the victims were several Italian Americans, many of whom worked nearby as laborers or dockhands. Entire families were displaced, and livelihoods were destroyed, further compounding the struggles of an already marginalized community.

In 1983, Smithsonian Magazine wrote of one child’s harrowing experience:

“Anthony di Stasio, walking homeward with his sisters from the Michelangelo School, was picked up by the wave and carried, tumbling on its crest, almost as though he were surfing. Then he grounded and the molasses rolled him like a pebble as the wave diminished. He heard his mother call his name and couldn’t answer, his throat was so clogged with the smothering goo. He passed out, then opened his eyes to find three of his four sisters staring at him.”

In the aftermath, the molasses flood became a symbol of corporate negligence. Investigations revealed that the tank had been poorly constructed; its walls leaked so badly that children often scooped molasses off the ground. The owners had ignored warnings about the tank’s structural integrity, prioritizing profit over safety.

The disaster also sparked one of the first major class-action lawsuits in U.S. history. Survivors and the families of victims — many of them Italian Americans — organized to demand justice. After six years of litigation, the United States Industrial Alcohol Company was found liable, resulting in settlements that provided some relief to the affected families.

For Boston’s Italian American residents, the Great Molasses Flood was both a personal and collective disaster. It highlighted the vulnerabilities of immigrant communities, who often bore the brunt of industrial recklessness. Today, the unusual disaster is remembered as a cautionary tale about the human cost of corporate negligence and the struggles and resilience of Boston’s Italian Americans.

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“America without her Soldiers would be like God without His Angels.” -Claudia Pemberton

It was early morning, cold and damp, a chilled drizzle surrounding the area…

They lay in trenches waiting for more, but hoped the weather would deter further attacks. The battlefield before them was quiet…too quiet. Little did they know that not far away in a railcar, Germany surrendered and signed the armistice agreement with the Allies.

The “war to end all wars” was over, leaving behind some nine million dead soldiers and millions more wounded. It was November 11, 1918, the 11^th hour, on the 11^th day of the 11^th month.

It was Armistice Day, now Veterans Day.

The story of our Veterans is one of bravery and determination. No matter the orders, they have always answered the call.

In 1775, they fought to build a nation; then in 1861, they fought brother against brother, to piece our country back together. In 1917, and again 1941, they were in Europe and the Pacific, fighting tyrants to free millions. They fought in the bitter cold mountains of Korea in 1951. They were in the jungles of South Vietnam in 1965. They fought in the hot deserts of Iraq and then in the rugged mountains of Afghanistan. They are ever-vigilant, ever-watchful.

Veterans are everyday people: they are family, neighbors and friends. They entered the military at a young age, some not even old enough to drink or vote. Their “basic” training was tough, it was extensive, it was precise, and it built character. Discipline and teamwork were crucial — their lives depended on it. They came as “recruits,” they left as “old hands.”

They all took the oath to defend the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic…and they have.

They have not failed us and we must not fail them. It is our duty to care for the wounded and support our military, their families, and our Veterans.

God bless them, and God bless our great nation.

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November is dedicated, in traditional Catholic reckoning, to praying for the faithful departed. They come to mind quite readily as the days fade, the air chills, and the sun’s light softens. Honestly, it’s my favorite time of year: we turn to introspection as we turn our air conditioning off.

First, because it’s clear that it can’t last. The fading light from shortening days is fleeting. The same with our lives, no? We’re invited to savor what lies ahead of us while considering what (and who) we have left behind. Life’s changes present challenges, but the sweep and span of life helps make it beautiful too!

Moreover, the chill we feel is a subtle indication of where we are headed. In the Book of Kings, David’s death is preceded by his inability to keep warm on his own. While I don’t suggest the solution he tried, that chill showed him and shows us that we can no longer count on what we once took for granted.  This time of year invites us to think of the past dog days of summer we sweated through and brace ourselves for some harsh days to come.

Finally, that softer light frames our whole view. Some days bring the blazing light of 15-hour days, but these days are meant to be softer both in weather and in mood. Much of our consumerist culture seeks to maximize every sense and experience while charging you a quick buck to do it. November invites us to do more with less. This can be difficult as we try to cut back from what we don’t need and can feel more cutting still when noticing the missing seat at the Thanksgiving table. But it is a process we undertake in the soft light of autumn rather than the glaring light of summer.

This month is a time to consider and pray for the dead. The Vatican just extended Indulgences once reserved for the first week of November to the whole month. It could be a very fitting “November sort of thing” to head to a Cemetery, take stock of the days, savor the light, steep in the chill (not for too long, though), and pray for the departed, entrusting them to the same Love that unites you to them even now while you walk in the Land of the Living.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.

May their souls, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the Mercy of God, rest in peace.

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