If your name ends in a vowel and your people came over in steerage a hundred years ago, you will almost certainly find yourself in the kitchen these days, wooden spoon in hand, plum tomatoes draining in the colander, thoughts drifting between sweet nostalgia and the malaise of indefinable loss. Second- and third-generation Italian-Americans are not the only immigrant progeny trying to recapture something of their forebears' Old World ways of late; they just tend, more than many groups, to direct the effort toward their dinner plates. Under the new, uneasy rules governing ethnic reclamation, if you can't do a decent reproduction of your... More >>>