Growing up in Phoenix, Sunday dinners meant one thing: Nonna’s house, where the smell of garlic and simmering tomato sauce greeted you at the door.
But when I left home, I worried I’d never find that same warmth again.
That was until I rediscovered it tucked away in little trattorias across Arizona. From Tuscan-inspired courtyards in Sedona to family-run red-sauce joints in Tucson, locals keep pointing me to Italian spots that feel less like restaurants and more like someone’s kitchen table…