This Christmas feels different from the others, and I’m not even sure why.
Maybe it’s because I’ve lived in Los Angeles my whole life—same places, same warm December evenings—and yet, when December arrives, I start missing Italy in a way that surprises even me. I miss Rome’s sunsets, the energy of Milan, the charm of Florence, the warmth of Naples. And yes, the food. Especially the food.
This year feels special because my uncles are coming from Italy. I don’t get to see them often, and when they’re here the whole house seems to shift a little—becomes louder, funnier, more alive. My parents, who have always lived here with me, immediately slipped into their usual Christmas routine: planning everything down to the smallest detail, arguing about the menu, tasting sauces that “need one more minute,” all the classic family things that somehow make the season feel real.
We decided to prepare a Roman-style Christmas lunch.
Not because I grew up there, but because that’s where our roots are, and keeping those traditions alive feels important. The kitchen already smells like home: frying oil, simmering sauces, and the kind of pleasant chaos that only happens when family cooks together.
We’re making supplì, Roman-style artichokes, real carbonara (no shortcuts, absolutely none), tonnarelli cacio e pepe, roasted lamb with potatoes, and puntarelle. I’ll take care of the tiramisu, even though mine never looks as perfect as the one my aunt makes in Italy. But at this point, it’s become part of my own ritual.
The gifts are already wrapped—one of the few things I managed to do ahead of time.
Presents for my cousins, a couple of thoughtful things for my uncles. Nothing extravagant, just small pieces of affection picked along the way.
The house is fully decorated too.
Warm lights, a few ornaments I keep from year to year, and a Christmas tree probably too big for the living room. I knew it when I bought it, but I wanted it anyway. Sometimes you choose things simply because they make you smile.
Inside the house there’s a quiet feeling I wasn’t expecting.
Los Angeles outside is busy as always—cars, people, lights everywhere—but inside it’s calm, warm, and peaceful. Exactly the kind of atmosphere you hope for during the holidays, but don’t always get.
And I guess that’s why I’m really happy this Christmas.
Not because everything is perfect, but because it feels genuine. It feels like one of those holidays that stays with you.
If you’re reading this, I hope your Christmas brings you close to the people you love, no matter where you are.
— Sara
SARA DAL MONTE 