An Ode to Adele Ronconi

Adele making pizza dough on her spianatoia.

I have been fortunate to have many culinary teachers, from professional chefs to mothers and grandmothers who in my opinion, are often the custodians of traditional cuisines. In 2015, I had the privilege of meeting Adele Ronconi in Genova, Italy. She would become not only a culinary teacher of her prized Ligurian recipes, but also a friend, and a surrogate mother while I lived in Italy. Adele was born in 1934 and was the mother of three sons, and the grandmother of three grandchildren. She passed away in November of 2025, and in recent weeks, I have revisited many of her recipes. Sadly, Adele’s sister, Maria, passed some days ago and I was overcome by an intermingling of sadness and nostalgia. Along with Renata, the Ronconi sisters were formidable women who were generous with their time, talents, and love.

(Left to right) Zia Renata, Zia Maria, and Nonna Adele.

Adele (left) and Zia Renata (right).

Zia Maria holding a funny-looking gingerbread cookie.

I spent days on end cooking with Adele and studying her precise hands as she taught me the classics of la cucina ligure. We would go up to Zia Maria’s apartment after dinner, dubbed “il cinema”, which meant I was invited to watch television with the three sisters. I would drop in on Zia Maria, who was an incredible cook in her own right, and I witnessed her doting on her beloved grandchildren. Some afternoons, I would go to the top floor of the apartment building to see Zia Renata, who would have me read aloud in Italian, and gently correct my mispronunciations. I was always offered a caffè and biscotti. Other afternoons, with pen and paper in hand, I would watch Zia Renata make pansotti con il sugo di noci (“potbellied” ravioli with walnut sauce) and frittate con il preboggion (thin frittata with foraged greens and herbs). From 2015 to 2016, I spent many a days with these women and their families — and these memories are amongst my most cherished of my young adulthood.

Adele and Isabella at the Confirmation of two of her grandchildren.

The very first day that I met Adele, after getting settled, we were sitting at the kitchen table with the mandatory caffè - she said to me in Italian, “I have treasures to show you”. She pulled out a stack of well-kept vintage postcards, and proceeded to tell me that while her husband was on military duty during their engagement, he would send her postcards to profess his love and promise his return. As she carefully leafed through the postcards, I could not help but think that we were off to a great start in our rapport. I felt so special that I was given this glimpse into her love story with her beloved Giorgio.

Adele reminiscing with Giorgio’s postcards in hand.

As days and months went by, I learned regionally-specific dishes from Adele. One of her first questions was, “Have you ever had pesto alla genovese?” I answered in the affirmative, noting that I had made it many a time at home in Los Angeles. And Adele proceeded to ask, “But have you had it made with Basilico di Prà?”. I shook my head no. And she said gently and without the slightest bit of condescension, “Then you have not had pesto genovese”. That day we went to the fruttivendolo (greengrocer) and picked out a whole flat of Basil from Prà, a DOP variety of basil that is prized for its delicacy and considered essential for making traditional pesto alla genovese — Adele was intent on having me taste and experience the local bounty. We made several jars of pesto to keep and gift to my friends in Le Marche. I learned how to make sugo di noci, a magnificent white walnut sauce that coats the traditional pansotti. We made pots and pots of minestrone, the vegetable selection changing with the seasons. She taught me how to make Cima alla Genovese, a veal breast filled with a vegetable and offal stuffing, sewn to enclose the contents, then simmered and cooled before slicing. We made gnocchi, ravioli, cannelloni, lasagne… We made foccacie ligure and pizza alla casalinga.

Adele making cannelloni.

Adele’s ravioli with

sugo di carne.

I studied her mincing garlic and marjoram with a mezzaluna, cleaning baby artichokes, and cleaning piles of greens for the torta pasqualina. The savory pies of Liguria are magnificent and light, as the dough does not contain butter, but rather water and extra virgin olive oil. Adele recounted that generations prior would use 33 ultra-thin layers of dough to recall the 33 years years of Christ’s earthly life, for the traditional Torta Pasqualina served at Easter. (I must admit, I have never managed to get the dough layers as thin as Adele or Zia Renata.) The pasqualina had foraged greens, prescinsêua cheese, parmigiano reggiano, and eggs. I was addicted to these savory pies, and when Adele or her sisters were not making them, I would go to the gastronomia and buy a slice.

Adele, rolling the edges of her torta pasqualina.

Zia Renata, filling a torta salata with artichokes and prescinsêua.

Adele with a finished torta pasqualina.

In July of 2015, I was invited to cook a dinner at Sotto restaurant in Los Angeles and recreate the dishes Adele had so lovingly taught me. I was a guest chef at their Sopra at Sotto series, and designed a menu that reflected my time in Adele’s kitchen in Genova. In my recollection, we served approximately 120 guests that evening and with the help of Chef Steve Samson and his kitchen staff, we had a beautiful evening. I proudly sent Adele some of the promotional postcards for the event by mail and told her that I had brought her kitchen to Los Angeles.

Promotional postcard (front) for the Sopra at Sotto series featuring Adele’s dishes. Adele’s hands prominently featured on the front of the postcard.

The menu for the Sopra at Sotto dinner in July 2015.

Promotional postcard for Sopra at Sotto dinner (back).

Every visit to Genova and my eventual extended stays, were more special than the last. These women cared for me as though I were family and integrated me into their traditions and daily lives. I wish I would have penned these memories years ago, but alas sometimes grief pushes us to reminisce and reexamine our memories from a place of gratitude. As I told their families, I am a better person by virtue of being loved by these women, who embodied compassion and service to others. I have more to say, but that will be for a future post…