When I was a kid, we had some close family friends, the Manfredas. Mr. & Mrs. Manfreda had come from Italy and settled in San Francisco, finding a home in the North Beach neighborhood and raising their three children. This was a family that was serious about their food. In fact, they converted the entire lower level of their home (which would have ordinarily functioned as their garage) into one giant kitchen and dining room with a massive table where friends and family would gather together for any reason to celebrate over a big meal.

During many a get together, out of this basement kitchen would roll enormous piping hot platters of homemade pastas: spaghetti with fresh marinara sauce, baked ziti, when we were lucky, pasta alla carbonara , and on, and on. Every dish was always delicious, made with love, and with every bite you knew that life, friends,…

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