Two sisters making zeppoli and nacatoli with love

My father left Viggiano, Basilicata for Australia in 1951, when he was only sixteen. He came to join his uncles and aunties who were already in Carlton. I like to imagine that he was fearless as he crossed the wide ocean to a strange land—youth is a wonderful thing!

His parents and his only sister stayed behind in Viggiano. They planned to follow him, but then his sister married, and they never came. I wonder—would I have let my child go alone like that? I still struggle with that question. But who am I to judge? The times were hard in Italy then, and I know his parents just wanted my father to have the very best opportunities.

Dad had been an apprentice tailor in Viggiano, so he went to work for a suit maker in Carlton. He enrolled in night school to study English.

My mother came to Australia four years later, in 1955, from Laureana di Borrello in Calabria. She was only thirteen. She came with her mother and her sister; her father and her two brothers were already here. Her grandfather had come way back in 1923 to do farm work. He was alone here until Mum and her family arrived.

Mum tried going to school, but it was really hard because she couldn’t speak English. A Jewish neighbour who had a clothing factory gave her a job on a sewing machine and taught her everything about sewing and clothing.

My parents met through a family friend, and got married. Dad was thirty. Mum's big Calabrese family welcomed him with open arms. With all her family here in Australia, sometimes it felt we were more Calabrese than Lucanian!

In 1978 Mum and Dad set up their own clothing business in Brunswick, which was then a hub of the “rag trade” (that’s what we call clothing and textile manufacturing). They worked so hard! Then, starting in 1988, I worked with them, making school uniforms. Around 2000, an influx of uniforms from overseas forced us to close the business. I started a textile business of my own, making items for Aged Care. My parents helped me a lot. Then cheap imports forced me to close my business too, and Mum and Dad officially retired.

Dad always loved his work.

I moved in with Mum and Dad in 2020, after they both had been in hospital for a long time with Covid. With God’s help, they recovered, but it was slow, and they needed one-on-one care.

It’s been a long journey. Dad will be ninety-two in January; Mum turned eighty-five in May. They have been married for sixty years! Aging and illness have brought many challenges, but they always push through. That’s what they have done all their lives. I'm so proud of them.

I’ve been to Viggiano just once, at Christmas in 1984, when I was eighteen and Dad’s parents were still alive. But I’ve stayed connected to Viggiano through my cousins.

There are two things I would still like to do. The first is to travel to Calabria with my cousin (Mum’s sister’s daughter), so we can see it together. The second is to travel to Viggiano for the Festa della Madonna. The Black Madonna’s story is amazing!

I'm sharing my Mum's recipe for zeppoli and my Aunty's recipe for nacatoli. There is something so special about seeing a platter filled with zeppoli and nacatoli. The moment we see them, we all know it is a special day, and that my Mum and my Aunty have gone to so much time and effort to make the occasion extra special for all of us. It is their way of showing us how much they love us and how special we are to them—special enough to make all the work that goes into preparing them worthwhile. And in return, we appreciate them and love them both so very much.

These recipes are made every Christmas and for all our other special occasions. I cannot remember a birthday, baptism, Christmas or Easter without zeppoli or nacatoli. They are part of our family, and a tradition that brings back so many beautiful memories of our Nonna and Nonno, and all the special days we shared together at their house.

The night before a special occasion, there is always such a buzz in the air as we get ready to make them the next day. I have been helping my Mum for some years now, and my uncle helps my Aunty—we all know the drill. The same utensils and bowls are used every time, and every step is done with precision and attention to detail, to make sure they turn out just right.

To make the pattern on the nacatoli, Mum and my Aunty press the dough against the side of a cane basket. Those baskets belonged to their grandmother in Calabria, who passed them on to their mother—my grandmother. Now Mum and my Aunty have one each. They are over one hundred years old.

Over the years, it has become really important to me to keep these traditions and recipes alive. In a world that is forever changing, these two recipes have stayed the same. They connect us to our past, to our Nonna and Nonno, and to the beautiful family memories that we continue to create together.

For my family, making zeppoli and nacatoli is not just about following a recipe. It is about keeping a little piece of our family history alive, and making sure that the love, memories and traditions passed down to us continue for generations to come.