Katy Mayo

My Nuna came to the United States from Greece with a heart full of dreams and a spirit as strong as the Mediterranean sun. She left behind a large, close-knit family, knowing that starting a new life in Brooklyn would mean being far from them, but she carried their love with her every step of the way. Despite the distance, she built a world of her own that was just as warm and full of life. She was an incredible cook. She owned a diner, but it was more than that—it was a second home to everyone who walked through its doors. People didn’t just come for the food, though the food was like nothing else, made with such love and care that you could taste it in every bite. Each dish was a reflection of her heritage, her soul, and her generosity. She made sure no one ever left hungry, and no one ever left feeling like a stranger. Nuna had a way of making everyone feel like family. It didn’t matter who you were or where you came from—if you came through her door, you were welcome. She had an open heart and an open kitchen, always with a warm smile and a plate ready. She fed us all, but it wasn’t just food she gave; it was her love, her comfort, her belief that no matter what life threw at us, everything would turn out great. She had a way of saying it with such calm certainty, like the world was in good hands with her around. Her faith in her family, her unwavering optimism, and her sense of hospitality shaped who we all became. She made us believe that with love, hard work, and a little bit of Greek magic, anything was possible. She was the heart of our family, and she made sure we always knew that.