“Mr. D!” My grandmother’s voice echoes through the house. The screen door off the kitchen slams shut. “Hey, Kris! Merry Christmas!” My grandpop holds a giant tin of homemade pizzelle cookies as he hugs us all hello. After filling ourselves with cookies, we sit down to a dinner of ravioli with homemade Dondero spaghetti sauce. When we finish the main course, I watch my grandpop drizzle oil and vinegar over a bowl full of salad greens. He insists on filling everyone’s plate, then he sits down, with his glass of homemade red wine and the leftover salad in the giant wooden bowl — Christmas at the Donderos.