It seems like my mom is always making cookies when we talk on the phone. Over a thousand miles away, I imagine the buttery first bite of her thumbprint cookies, with their signature chocolate center hugged by perfectly squishy dough.
This past Christmas season, when she told me about all the types of cookies she was making, I felt a panic race to my chest. It hit me that my daughter was 10 years old, and my son was 12, and I had failed at carrying on the tradition of introducing them to Italian cookies. The treats represent family memories and our heritage, and remind me of my mom — with her sleeves rolled up, smiling at me while we waited in front of the oven when I was a little kid; it seemed so long ago.
Sure, my mom could mail us some cookies, but who knows how they’d look after that long trip from the East Coast. It’s not the same as the fresh out of the oven warmth from a batch that was just created, still soft and comforting.
I started to wonder if I could find an Italian bakery in Houston, where I moved from New York in 2016, that could at least provide the essence, the smells, the flavors, of being in the kitchen with my mom. A bakery I could turn to whenever I felt nostalgic for my roots.
As a third generation Italian with my relatives immigrating from Naples and Sicily, I grew up enjoying platters of Italian cookies at family get-togethers — plates filled with delicious rainbow cookies; lady fingers with chocolate, pasticcio or sprinkles on one end; and, of course, almond biscotti.
Maybe it’s getting older, maybe it’s living so far away from where my grandparents met in Queens, New York, maybe it’s the way some family stories can fade if there isn’t a sweet reminder that had me suddenly yearning for an Italian bakery and cookies like my mom and grandparents made.
When my kids went back to school after winter break, I started searching online for Italian bakeries in the area, hoping to be able to surprise them with a platter of cookies one day after they got off the bus.
The results from my initial online search didn’t wow me. I discovered that Sicilians arrived in Houston in the late 1800s and since then have fed residents with their love of a good, fresh meal; selling produce, owning grocery stores and popular restaurants inspired by where they come from. I thought with so much history, there would be an old Italian bakery somewhere with iconic beginnings, but it doesn’t seem so.
I learned the Sacred Heart Society of Little York was founded in 1923 in North Houston by a group of Italian men who immigrated from Palermo, Sicily. Starting in 1953, volunteers prepared a popular spaghetti lunch which included hundreds of fig-filled cuccidati cookies for guests. But the lunches closed down in 2018. I regret that I missed out on this Italian cultural experience. The sauce was the main star then, but I wish I could have tasted the cookies.
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In the 1940s, my grandparents moved from Queens to New Hampshire, where my grandfather was a furniture factory foreman and there weren’t the Italian ingredients in grocery stores or bakeries and restaurants they were accustomed to. If they wanted traditional Italian food, they had to make it themselves. My grandmother asked my grandfather for some wooden dowels she could use to make cannolis. My grandmother would create the crust of a cannoli from scratch and wrap it around the wooden dowels and bake it. Then she’d stuff the cannoli with a homemade custard filling and chocolate chips.
While I’m not opposed to baking, it should be known that I usually burn dinner rolls. So, my wish is to find a bakery in Houston to love. I’m seeking a similar vibe to the popular Ferrara Bakery in Little Italy in New York.
I’m looking for anise, pistachio, and lemon flavors. I’m looking for a classic almond rainbow cookie that represents the Italian flag with red, white, and green layers. I’m looking for the beautiful waves around a petite butter cookie with chocolate or raspberry in the center.
Unfortunately, searching ‘rainbow cookies + Houston,’ and ‘Italian cookies + Houston’ and ‘Italian Bakery + Houston,’ returned few results that looked authentic. Still, I jotted down a few addresses of storefronts that looked like they had potential.
My first stop was La Sicilia Italian Bakery & Cafe in the heart of Montrose. The photos online of their cookie displays looked intriguing. “Come in, we are awesome,” read the sign on the window.
Inside I was surrounded by stuffed sfogliatelle with pistachio. There was also a pistachio cannoli and a huge, perfectly made rainbow cookie platter. I gawked at every single item. I wanted to dive in.
In another display case, the delicious white powder on traditional Italian Wedding Cookies called my name. Then an almond finger cookie was added to my box of goodies. The pretty ricotta cookies with sprinkles were cute, too.
I may have sounded overly hyped when I ordered one of everything. I mean, how could I have left without trying them all?
I opened my box of treats in my car in the parking lot. After taking a first bite of the rainbow cookie, I sighed with delight. It had been so long since I had tasted the sponge cake and the sweet jam between the layers and chocolate coating. It was exactly what I was hoping for. The ricotta cookie with the sprinkles was perfect. The butter cookies were like being in my mom’s kitchen. I wanted to call her and tell her about my discovery. I knew this bakery would be hard to surpass but I was also hoping Houston had more than just one option.
Although I didn’t find many stand-alone bakeries, I discovered some laid back Italian restaurants and cafes have display cases of cookies that you can order at the counter to-go.
One is Paulie’s. While long time Houston residents may think this institution is a no brainer, for me it was brand new. I was delighted to find a cookie showcase that pleased my daughter. She wanted the shortbread cookie with “Hey ‘Y’all” written in frosting on top, and we chose the cowboy hat cookie for my son. Although the huge cookie drizzled in chocolate was hard to resist, the peanut butter cookie with chocolate on the top was mine-mine-mine. We ordered some pasta to go with our treats, and when we left, I told my daughter this might have to become a ritual.
I read online that the namesake Paulie is cousins with Nash D’Amico, the founder of D’ Amico’s Italian Market Cafe in Rice Village. So I had to check out the cookies there, too. I immediately saw a few options at the counter and ordered two of each along with a cappuccino to-go. On the phone, I told my mom about my bundle of classic Italian white sesame cookies also known as Giuggiulena, along with fig-filled cucidati, biscotti and amaretti almond flavored cookies wrapped in twisted paper. I couldn’t wait to try them and devoured almost everything in my car while I waited in afternoon traffic. I savored the soft dough of the sesame cookie and the sweetness of the cucidati, and then dunked the petite amaretti into my cappuccino. It was bliss. The selection at D’amico’s probably isn’t as sugary as my kids might prefer, but since it isn’t too far from my son’s soccer practices, I can imagine popping in for fettuccine and cookies to-go on evenings I don’t feel like cooking.
Homesick for New York, I thought about the bakery photos I saw online from Kenny & Ziggy’s New York Delicatessen. Although it’s not an Italian restaurant, the cookie display looked insane. The following week I visited and I bee-lined right to the deli counter.
The display is over eight feet long and full of ladyfingers, assorted whirling butter cookies, pistachio and raspberry leaf shaped cookies, almond cookies that looked like Ricciarelli, chewy on the inside and firm on the outside which are perfect to dip in coffee. Most of all the rainbow cookies almost made me squeal. And there were thumbprint cookies, just like my mom’s. I ordered six.
I devoured most of the thumbprints on the way home. My kids quickly finished the rest.
Next on my list was Mama Fontana’s, a little bakery and coffee shop on Memorial Drive, known for their focaccia sandwiches. I didn’t know what to expect so I ordered a cappuccino, a pistachio cookie and biscotti. Everything was tasty and beyond my expectations.
I’m keeping Tosca Italian Gourmet in Cypress in mind when my son has soccer games in North Houston.
Throughout my search, I visited a few other bakeries that caught my eye, even if they aren’t labeled Italian-style. And developed my own recommendations:
- If you like butter cookies and the flavors of pistachio, chocolate and sesame seeds, try Suzie’s Pastry Shop on Richmond Avenue. Although the bakery is known for Mediterranean and European desserts — baklava and layered cakes — you’ll also find some dainty butter cookies and others covered in pistachio.
- If you desire a ladyfinger-style cookie with chocolate buttercream in the center, try Three Brother’s Bakery — but come hungry, because all the cookie portions are huge, and best shared with a loved one.
- The European energy of Epicure Cafe in River Oaks drew me in, and the raspberry thumbprint cookie with sprinkles caught my eye immediately. Also, their butter cookie to-go boxes are delicious. I picked up a box to surprise my fiancé with and the chocolate linzer was his favorite.
- The rainbow cookies and the thumbprint butter cookies will draw me back to La Sicilia and Kenny and Ziggy’s, and I’m keeping D’ Amico’s in mind for my fig-filled cucidati fix.
Of all these selections, I think there’s room in Houston for more authentic Italian bakeries, the kind that hit you with the smell of lemons when you walk in the door, and envelop you in buttery warm nostalgia for family memories at the table.
With so much Tex-Mex and BBQ surrounding me in Texas, it feels easy to let my Italian roots slip away. Finding a reminder of my heritage in the shape of a thumbprint means a lot to me. Holding a dainty butter cookie between my fingers makes me wonder more about my grandma and her life. I feel inspired to call my mom and ask more questions and archive our stories of family history. I look for tidbits to tell my daughter when she asks why her middle name is Marie, and photos of my grandmother in her kitchen to show her.
When we share cookies we are traveling through generations. Over these confections I tell my children, “Your grandma probably ate cookies like this, her mama too.”
