Written by Margo Sorenson, author of over thirty traditionally-published books for young readers. Margo Sorenson spent the first seven years of her life in Spain and Italy, devouring books and Italian food and still speaks (or tries!) her childhood languages. Her most recent Adult/YA novel, SECRETS IN TRANSLATION (Fitzroy Books, October 2018), takes place in Positano, with many special Italian connections forged between people, especially because of their ability to speak Italian and to deeply appreciate the culture. www.margosorenson.com

“Once you open your mouth, and people hear your (Southern Italian) accent,” my parents told me, trying to be helpful, “people are going to think you really speak fluent Italian, and they’ll speak really fast, expecting you to understand.” Sure, I told myself. “Parents.” It was my very first trip back to Europe with my husband since I’d grown up there as a kid, so, even though I still studied and spoke Italian infrequently as an adult, I hadn’t been surrounded by a lot of people actually speaking Italian for years. I had no idea that my parents might be right. Because it was a trip with my husband’s company, our trip itinerary was primarily Germany and Austria, and a side-trip to Switzerland, so, to my disappointment, I didn’t think I’d have a chance to be speaking much Italian, anyway.

After being in Germany and Austria for a week, we had just left Lucerne, where everyone spoke Swiss-German. When we first arrived in Bellinzona, Switzerland, for the day, our tour guide gave us free reign and suggested we find the town’s medieval walls. Being a medieval history major, no one had to suggest that to me twice, so my patient husband and I took our tourist map and went off.

As luck would have it, we became lost almost immediately. I had forgotten that where we now were was Ticino, the Italian-speaking canton of Switzerland., so, when we found people who seemed to be locals, we tried to ask directions, first in English (I don’t speak German). That didn’t work, but they smiled and looked encouraging. Then, I tried my French. That didn’t work, either. Finally, in desperation, I tried Italian. Allora! The smiles broadened and they were delighted! My husband and I were delighted in turn—a language in common! Those of us who have had this happy circumstance occur know the feeling of joyful relief that flooded my husband and me. Yes, they spoke really fast, but after I used my “Mi dispiace—il mio Italiano non é buono,” they were more than helpful and even escorted us personally to our destination, chatting away. Being able to speak Italian had saved us again and helped us make a special connection. The warmth and generosity of Italian-speakers was confirmed for us, once more, and I felt at home.

That evening, in Lugano, when our tour group all walked into the hotel bar together, I saw several men look at us and say, “Ah, le donne americane vengono – che belle!” Then they kissed their fingertips (Italian men can be such flirts!). I started to smile to myself and looked at our tour group friends—and suddenly realized none of them could understand a word of what the men were saying: “Ah, American women are coming – how beautiful!” Not only that, the men speaking Italian had no idea that I could understand everything they said, either. Because I looked so obviously American and was with a group of other Americans, no one could even begin to imagine that I could understand the Italian language. Again, another language connection created a memorable encounter.

Besides the humorous connection, that moment illuminated for me, as an author, the typical question that authors love to ask themselves—”what if?” My “what if” question was, “What if you could understand and speak a language, but no one else knew you could? What if an American girl was fluent in Italian and could understand everything Italians were saying, but they didn’t realize she could—and because she could speak both languages, she solved a dark mystery involving limoncello producers and sabotage?” After many revisions, and lots of research and help from my Italian friends, SECRETS IN TRANSLATION was finally published and is now in the hands of readers. I am very grateful to those convivial men at the bar in Lugano who unknowingly began the whole process.

Italy is a beautiful country and the people are warm and generous, a perfect place to make the kind of heartwarming discovery that my heroine Alessandra is finally able to make in the book, and I hope SECRETS IN TRANSLATION resonates with readers of all ages. My wish is that readers will celebrate Italy, its beautiful, melodic language, and its special culture that has created so much of Western civilization’s precious legacy of artists, architects, composers, writers, musicians, and designers.

Speaking Italian enables us to tap into its precious culture and be more empathetic, something that is always a positive. Because Italy is near and dear to my heart (il cuore é italiano)—I am thrilled that SECRETS IN TRANSLATION is not a “secret” any longer, thanks to being able to understand and speak Italian.

Joanne Fisher

Oltre 2000 anni fa, gli antichi romani inventarono i torchi per formaggio per pressare la cagliata e trasformarla in formaggio. Sono stati anche i primi a sperimentare il processo di stagionatura del formaggio in condizioni diverse per produrre sapori, consistenze e aromi diversi. I Romani crearono persino una cucina casearia separata chiamata Caseale e alcune aree furono dedicate all’affumicatura del formaggio fatto in casa. L’Impero Romano continuò ad affinare il processo di produzione del formaggio disperdendo e assimilando le loro tecniche in tutto l’Impero che copriva anche una vasta parte dell’Europa.

Dopo la caduta dell’Impero Romano, molte di queste tecniche furono in gran parte abbandonate, per sopravvivere in zone isolate come in montagna o nei monasteri, dove i monaci creavano formaggi basati sulle innovazioni romane. Dopodiche, ogni stato italiano ha sviluppato le proprie identità e tradizioni che hanno portato a formaggi unici per ogni regione d’Italia. Gl’ingredienti e le usanze locali hanno giocato un ruolo importante nei tipi di formaggi italiani prodotti in tutta la penisola.

Ci sono centinaia le varietà di formaggi italiani che vengono prodotte in ogni regione. Di seguito tratteremo i più popolari. Ci sono molti consorzi o organizzazioni di controllo della qualità creati per proteggere e controllare la produzione di formaggi italiani protetti in Italia. Molti formaggi italiani hanno ottenuto lo status di DOP (denominazione di origine protetta). Lo stato della DOP stabilisce i metodi tradizionali per la produzione di un formaggio italiano e garantisce che sia prodotto con ingredienti locali solo nelle regioni italiane originali.

Mozzarella di Bufala – leggendario formaggio fatto con il latte di bufala.
Parmiggiano Reggiano – formaggio a pasta dura più popolare premiato con lo status di DOP dall’UE.
Pecorino – formaggio stagionato a pasta dura prodotto con latte di pecora. Quasi ogni regione d’Italia ha la sua variazione di Pecorino e ognuna è più squisita dell’altra.
Provolone – viene appeso nelle grotte e stagionato dai 3 ai 12 mesi. A volte è affumicato. Ottima scelta per panini.
Ricotta – significa “ri-cotta” è un formaggio fresco, morbido, spalmabile, dolce e cremoso. Viene utilizzato in dolci e primi piatti.
Asiago – un formaggio veneto DOP che si presenta in formati morbidi e duri. È ideale per panini caldi e salse.

Questi sono di gran lunga i più popolari, ma se scavi a fondo la sezione dei formaggi italiani del tuo supermercato; rimarrai stupito da quello che troverai per le tue delizie culinarie.

Written by: GiovannaNicole Lacerra, School of the Holy Child. Rye, NY
7th grade student

I am a first generation Italian-American, and my heritage is very important to me. My Nonna, on my mother’s side, came to America when she was just twenty four years old. Her husband was in Venezuela, so she was all alone except for her two children. A son who was seven and a daughter who was four. She was also pregnant with her third child. It was ten long days of rough waters and seasickness. When she did reach America it was very hard for her. She was too old to go to school and she could not find a job. Eventually, she found a sweatshop that hired her. They did not pay well, but most of her coworkers spoke Italian so it was easier for her to communicate. Finally, it is time for her to give birth to her third and final child. It was November 24, 1963 and it was 2 days after President John F. Kennedy’s assasination. So the day after my Nonna gave birth to her child was the funeral, but she did not know this and she was very confused when everyone was talking about it. My Nonna did the best she could to make everything as easy as possible for her and her family.

My family has a lot of traditions that have been passed down for generations. For example, for Christmas we make fried dough balls with honey and sprinkles on top. They are called struffoli. My Nonna has been doing it the longest so of course she is the boss. All of the women will come together and spend about 2 hours making these delicious treats. The men don’t like to make them, they only like to eat them. Another example is pasta a mano, or homemade pasta. My Nonna has taught everyone how to make it, and it is way better than store bought. We also have some Italian nursery rhymes that we always sing to the kids. I love to sing them to my niece and nephew, even though sometimes I don’t know what I’m saying. We also make fresh homemade tomato sauce every September. We make 300 jars of sauce for 6 different families. Last but not least, my favorite tradition is the tarantella. The town from where my mother is from is very small so they use the tarantella from the town next to them, Montemarano. La Tarantella Montemaranese is 15 minutes long. Every party that we go to my Great Uncle Salvatore brings a CD of the tarantella so he can give it to the DJ and we can dance the night away. We rarely ever do the full 15 minutes because most of the people dancing are older and don’t have enough stamina. My family and I still keep these traditions going no matter what.

As I have talked about her through this essay you have most likely come to notice that my greatest influence is my Nonna Anita. My Nonna is the one that has shown me every possible tradition and detail about my heritage there is to know. She taught me to be proud of my Italian roots and to showcase it. My Nonna Anita has made me realize how great it is to be Italian. It was October 2018 and I was getting ready for my Christmas concert. This year was especially exciting because the concert would be at Jazz at Lincoln Center in Columbus Circle, New York City. It was only a little more than a month away so it was time for me to pick a song. My mother really wanted me to do one song in English and one in Italian, but I didn’t want to do that. Even though I didn’t want to sing an Italian song my mother still made me. My Nonna Anita was very proud that I was going to sing in Italian so she helped us pick the song. She also helped me pick the American song which was The Little Drummer Boy, because that song is very important to my family and my ancestors. Eventually, we choose the Christmas song Gésu Bambino. At first I was frustrated that my family was making me sing this song, but once it was time to actually perform I was excited. I am not sure if you have ever been to Jazz at Lincoln Center but where I was performing the background of the stage was glass, so you could see all on Columbus Circle. It was so beautiful, and it just so happened that it started snowing. Before my performance I was so nervous, but when I got onto that stage and sang Gésu Bambino I did not care about all the people watching, I just wanted to make my family proud. It was as if I had my own personal spotlight shining just on my family, no one else mattered. I just looked at them and smiled. Afterwards everyone congratulated me and said I did a great job, but the best part was when my Nonna came up to me and gave me the greatest, biggest hug ever imaginable. When I realized how that song made my family feel I knew that singing an Italian song isn’t frustrating, it’s home.

This picture is from July 2019. In this picture, my family is dancing the tarantella. The family was at a restaurant at the top of the mountain for the Festa di Sant Antonio. In this picture dancing there is my Nonna Anita (of course), My Great Uncle Salvatore, my cousin Anthony, my mother’s cousin Teresa, and my mother’s cousin Daniel.

This picture is from December 2019. Here we are making struffoli for Christmas Eve. In the front to the right is me, then behind me is my sister Maria, next to her is my sister Daniela, then my cousin Deana, then my Nonna Anita, and lastly my mother’s cousin Maria.

This picture is from September 2020. In this picture we are sorting out the good tomatoes from the bad tomatoes. In the front is me, then behind me are some family friends that like to make the sauce with us.

This picture is from February 1990. This picture is from Carnivale. I was not born yet in 1990. To the right there is my Nonna Anita, then her mother my Great Nonna Teresa, then her sister my Great-Great Zia Filomena, and then my sister Maria. My mother is taking the picture, but including her that was 4 generations, hence the sign.

This picture is from May 1965. This is from right after my mother was born. To the right is my Nonna Anita holding my mother, then the little girl in the front is my Zia Luisa, then next to her is my Great Nonna Teresa, and all the way in the back is my Zio Mimmo.

This picture is from December 2018. This is me performing at Jazz at Lincoln Center when I sang Gésu Bambino. Next to me playing the piano is my piano and singing teacher Mr. John Senakwami.

June 2, 2021, New York, NY – The Italian Language Foundation continues its mission of supporting and sustaining the study of Italian language by offering its student members a robust offering of opportunities and workshops. ILF is partnering with several Italian entrepreneurs and companies, including law firms, restaurants and businesses, including Italian charcuterie business, Fratelli Beretta and global confectionery company, Ferrero to offer internships to member students.

Margaret I. Cuomo, M.D., President of ILF, emphasized the positive impact of having college-aged students working with Italian companies and brands early in their careers: “It is vital for the Italian Language Foundation to support our student members – intelligent and capable individuals who love the Italian language and can transfer their language skills into a real asset for global companies. By offering these young professionals the chance to see the inner workings of U.S.-based Italian companies, we are starting them on a career path that will lead to great success.”

Colin Grant, a graduate of Indiana University, Bloomington who started his internship in Ferrero’s Washington, D.C. office in May said, “This is such a great opportunity that ILF helped me secure. I am excited to intern with company that has a rich Italian heritage with brands like Nutella and Ferrero Rocher that are loved in the U.S. and around the world and hone my professional and language skills.”

Louis Tallarini, Chairman of the ILF, sees the ILF’s increased attention to internships as a significant step in supplementing the current support the Foundation offers to college age students of Italian language. “These recently secured internships are the perfect accompaniment to ILF’s Commitment 2 Excellence (C2E) program. C2E was created to help 11th & 12th grade high school students and college students of Italian, especially Latino students, become ready for a career in the global workforce. Only with mentors and internship can our ILF student members truly take flight.”

For companies in search of qualified interns with Italian language skills, the ILF is standing by to provide candidates of the highest skill and acumen. U.S. based Italian companies and entrepreneurs should contact ILF to take part in their internship program via LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/company/italianlanguagefoundation.

Written by Margo Sorenson, author of over thirty traditionally-published books for young readers. Margo Sorenson spent the first seven years of her life in Spain and Italy, devouring books and Italian food and still speaks (or tries!) her childhood languages. Her most recent Adult/Young Adult novel, SECRETS IN TRANSLATION (Fitzroy Books, October 2018), takes place in Positano, filled with vignettes of daily Italian life. www.margosorenson.com

Ah, the lilting, vibrant sounds of spoken Italian! After my U.S. Diplomatic Corps family moved from Napoli to Bari, when I was four, I was often awakened in the mornings by hearing the vendor ringing his bell outside in the street, chanting, “Pane, burro, e cioccolato!” I was so enchanted by the melodic cadence that I took to riding my two-wheeled bike, ringing its bell, and chanting the same refrain, over and over. Luckily, our neighbors never complained!

Our house was on the outskirts of Bari, sharing a driveway with two other families. We had a number of olive trees in the yard, and my Midwestern mother decided that she would learn to cure olives. She consulted with our neighbors and went at it, even burying the jars in our yard. The problem was—she couldn’t remember where she buried them!

At the time, there was no dairy in Bari, so getting fresh pasteurized milk was a problem. My parents adapted quickly, and we arranged with a neighbor’s cousin to have a liter of his cow’s milk (of course, first, my mother had us meet the cow “in person,”) delivered to us each morning, which my mother promptly boiled, in lieu of pasteurization. It was “rent-a-cow,” for sure.

In the winter, the coal chute into the basement clattered, and in the summer, the mosquitos buzzed. We slept under mosquito netting to save us, because there was no air conditioning, and we had to leave the windows open. The apricot-like fragrance of oleanders drifted in (I was horrified to learn the horse next door died from eating them!), as well as the pungent scent of our geraniums; we have geraniums on our present balcony as a remembrance.

My friends were Angelo, Aldo, Franco, Marisa, Carlo, and Enzo. We played kick-the-can (probably a San Marzano tomato can) down our long driveway. One day, I tried to talk Angelo into playing cowboys and Indians—I had just seen a Roy Rogers movie at the consulate. He wasn’t buying it! Aldo, the oldest at age ten, would sometimes lead us on bike rides down the main road almost to the Italian army barracks.

Our dog, Duke, became enamored with the Italian army men down the road, and he would frequently escape to play basketball with them. Because his collar read “American Consulate,” some of the soldiers would always bring him back, smiling, with profuse Italian apologies. Of course, they grinned when I answered them back in Italian.

When I’m lucky enough to hear spoken Italian, these are some of the precious childhood memories that come flooding back, and the refrain still plays in my mind: “Pane, burro, e cioccolato….”