Yesterday, I had lunch with my friend Haig Buchakjian at a small Italian restaurant right across the street from the Diocese. It’s called Nonna Dora’s. Now, it’s not a big place. It’s not fancy, but it’s known for handmade pasta. And what makes it truly special is that Nonna Dora herself, well into her 80s, still sits right there by the kitchen, rolling out dough with her own hands.
As I sat there enjoying that meal, my thoughts drifted back to Armenia in the early 1990s, some of the hardest years of our lives. There were power outages, food shortages, and bitter cold winters. And yet, in the midst of that hardship, my grandmother Eva, may God rest her soul, would find a way to feed us. With just a little flour, some water, and her own two hands, she would make Reshta, our Armenian version of linguini.