Michael Attiani

Michael Attiani is a second-generation Italian-American. Three of his grandparents were born in Italy; the fourth was born to recent Italian immigrants in western Pennsylvania. If he tried hard enough, Michael could probably trace his lineage back to Romulus and Remus—maybe even Adam and Eve—because Italians are fairly certain the Garden of Eden was somewhere in Italy. After all, Italy is heaven on earth. All four grandparents ended up in Philadelphia, where they remained for the rest of their lives.

Michael was born and raised in the City of Brotherly Love. From eighth grade through college, he racked up enough Catholic guilt and obligation to last several lifetimes.  He has been in spiritual rehab ever since. After being paroled from academia, Michael pursued a career in commercial real estate and developed a strong sense of irony.

Somehow, he convinced a beautiful woman to marry him and raise two children. Then they added four dogs to the mix—because two kids just didn’t generate enough chaos on their own. In addition to family and work, Michael enjoys spending time with friends, writing, drawing, skiing, traveling, and doing just about anything involving cars. He can often be found driving on racetracks and attending car events around the globe.

Michael uprooted his brood in the early 2000s and moved to Idaho. After nearly a dozen years out west, they clicked their ruby slippers and returned to Philadelphia—because there’s no place like home, and nowhere quite like Philly. It’s a land of infuriating sports teams, over-enunciated vowels, world-class restaurants, an unsettling number of people dressed like Ben Franklin, way too many debates about who makes the best sandwich, and an endless supply of sarcasm and cynicism.

Growing up in Philadelphia left an indelible mark on Michael—shaping his love of sports, his quick wit, and most of all, his unwavering devotion to food.  Food, after all, is the hub of any Italian family, especially one whose spokes include humor, storytelling, excessive hugging, and ladles overflowing with guilt.