Bianco D’Oro and backseat chats: What I’ll miss most from my childhood

There’s nothing quite like the smell of my Nana’s car.

 

Not new leather or pine-scented air freshener, but the savory aroma of freshly packed pasta, brownies, and always - Bianco D’Oro salami.

 

From early childhood through my teens, my Nana was more than a chauffeur; she was my companion, chef, and biggest cheerleader. As my parents had busy jobs, Nana was often there - school pickups, activity drop-offs, and the in-between moments that became the most meaningful.

 

Every car ride felt like a mini-family reunion, packed with stories, laughter, and love - especially love expressed through food.

 

Unzipping the cooler she always packed was like opening a present: freshly cut strawberries, penne glistening in olive oil, and, of course, “Bianco D’Oro for my Bianca,” she’d say, honoring our shared Italian heritage and my middle name from her beloved Calabrian grandmother.

 

Beyond the meals were the conversations; everything from volleyball, music, and books to faith, friendships, and crushes. We would also reminisce about my late grandfather, whose legacy I try to live out in my work and dreams.

 

Though I now drive myself, and Nana no longer chauffeurs me, her influence continues to drive me daily. She still cooks, still listens, still waits with a plate of pasta - and Bianco D’Oro when I need it most. I am learning her family recipes, and cooking together provides a new forum for our “reunions.”

 

As I head to college, it’s not just the car rides I’ll miss; it’s the connection, the tradition, and the reminder that love, like salami and sauce, is best when shared.

 

Editor’s note: Bella Danielson will be studying public health on the pre-med track in the Sally McDonnell Barksdale Honors College at the University of Mississippi.