That was the message, after plates of pasta and bowls of minestrone and a shot of limoncello, from Mario Pisacane to friends in Amalfi’s sister city.
That’s Amalfi as in Amalfi, Italy, the coastal paradise carved into a hillside the size of a couple of East Rocks overlooking the Mediterranean.
New Haven’s roots — and much of its soul — can be traced to the busy streets and steep outdoor steps all over Amalfi, including inside Da Maria trattoria e pizzeria, which is run by Pisacane’s family. Many of New Haven’s oldest Italian families emigrated from the 1,500-year-old southern Italian village. To a first-time visitor from the Elm City, it felt like home.
Learning that two of his diners were New Haveners, Pisacane pulled out photos of other Elm City guests past. A colleague recalled the night about 10 years ago that New Haveners filled the restaurant; they were here on a group trip.
A waiter named Geraldo retrieved another gift (pictured): a poster of Amalfi’s patron saint, Andrew, one of Jesus’s disciples. An annual festival in St. Andrew’s name fills Amalfi’s main piazza ever year — just as it does in Wooster Square.
A couple of doors down from Da Maria, wide steps invite visitors inside St. Andrew’s colorful cathedral and museum, including the crypt where his bones are buried.
Pisacane counts numerous relatives among the New Haven landed; he’s an Amendola on his mother’s side. “Amalfi Grille! Gennaro’s!” He was ticking off names of New Haven restaurants his relatives have opened over the years.
Every step, every warm encounter, evoked New Haven: Store signs reading “Fusco.” A cabbie named Cavaliere. During a walk through a tunnel at night, a door suddenly appeared (pictured), leading to a house above. It bore a familiar nameplate.
"You talk about these guys like it's an anthropology class. But the truth is, they bring certain modes of conflict resolution from all the way back in the old country, from the poverty of the Mezzogiorno, where all higher authority was corrupt." - Meadow