More than a meal:  What food taught me about belonging

Food has always been more than just something on my plate: it’s how I’ve understood where I come from. Growing up in Italy, meals weren’t just for eating. They were for gathering, for listening, for arguing, for laughing. The kitchen was a place of memory and identity. 

Some of my earliest and most vivid memories are of Sunday lunches at my nonna’s house. The smell of fresh bread dipped in olive oil, the sound of sauce bubbling, the way everyone squeezed around the table with no space left but always room for more. Even as a child, I could feel that this wasn’t just about food, it was about belonging.

When I moved to the U.S. as a small child, and later returned for a semester exchange, I felt the absence of those rituals. School lunches were fast and quiet and dinner felt more like a task than a ceremony. I didn’t know how to explain it then, but I missed the slowness, the warmth, the way food brought people together in Italy not just to eat, but to live.

During my exchange, I started to understand this difference more clearly. I tasted new dishes, some I loved, some were strange, but it made me appreciate my own culinary culture even more. I found myself cooking pasta for my new friends and explaining why every step mattered, why the sauce had to simmer, why we eat slowly. It wasn’t just about taste, but it was about carrying a piece of Italy with me.

Anthropologists see food as a cultural language. It tells us about family roles, gender expectations, values, and even resistance. In Italy, food is deeply tied to identity. It’s regional, it’s historical, and it’s emotional. What we eat, how we eat, and who we eat with, these are all reflections of who we are.

Now, whenever I prepare a dish from home, I know I’m not just recreating a flavor, I’m honoring a tradition. And even far from Italy, that makes me feel rooted.

Sofia Agostinelli.