I had only recently graduated from college when one of my high school friends, Stacy, brought homemade Spanakopita to a party. It was the first time I ever tasted Spanakopita, or for that matter, phyllo dough. I don't remember much from that party, but what I do remember is how much my boyfriend and I loved the Spanakopita. That boyfriend soon became my husband, and we still love Spanakopita to this day.
About fifteen years ago, I had Spanakopita at Cousin Jennie's house. She was my father's first cousin, but she was more like his aunt because she and my grandfather, Vito, grew up together like siblings. When Vito was 11, his mother died and then the following year, Vito's father, Domenico, moved back to Italy, leaving Vito with Italia, one of Vito's older sisters. This picture was taken the last time Vito saw his father. Read more.