Zia Rosa

09/13/2026

Apparently, while I’ve been busy keeping an Italian restaurant from descending into complete anarchy, the North Pole has been turning the lights back on.

One at a time.

Tomorrow, September 14th, Letters From Santa officially begins its 2026 season. And yes, Zia Rosa knows the woman responsible. Roseanna Borelli

She drinks too much espresso, has an alarming amount of information about the internal operations of the North Pole Postal Palace, and cannot be trusted with a simple Christmas tradition without creating an entire government infrastructure for elves.

I find her exhausting. 😂

Anyway.

Santa starts taking names tomorrow.
If you’ve been good, congratulations. If you haven’t, Zia Rosa respects consistency. 😏

🇮🇹🍷🌹

LETTERS FROM SANTA

09/10/2026

For those who have been following along… I had three spinal surgeries this summer.

Three.

Because apparently after the first one, my spine said, “I don’t think we’ve gotten enough attention yet.”

There were hospitals. There were antibiotics. There were things attached to me that had cords, tubes and alarming little lights. There was a walker. There was a cane. There was an extended period during which getting from one side of a room to the other qualified as an itinerary.

And now…I’m back.

Well, sort of.

I’m working 30-plus hours most weeks, but that doesn’t mean you’ll find me holding court at Bertolone’s 30-plus hours a week. Some days I’m at the restaurant. Some days I’m at home working on menus, promotions, graphics, social media, advertising and whatever fresh nonsense I’ve convinced Sonia we absolutely need.

Today it’s football promotions and new business cards for the Sauce Boss, because after spending time with me, she has now decided hers require more sass. I’m rarely a good example, but I am forever a delightful disclaimer.

Tomorrow night, we have a catering event. Saturday, the kickoff to our pizza promotion. Sunday… who knows!

So yes, I have officially reentered society. I’m just doing it with slightly fewer original factory parts and a much greater appreciation for chairs.

But something happened recently that I wasn’t expecting. Twice.

Sarah, who used to be a customer at my vintage shop years ago, drove all the way down just to see me.

Just to see me.

There are gestures that look small written in a sentence and feel enormous when you’re the person receiving them. That was one.

And yesterday, Gina walked into Bertolone’s.

Gina used to be a vendor in my vintage shop, and I haven’t seen her in years. She knew I was working at Bertolone’s now, but she didn’t know I’d be there yesterday. Neither of us was prepared.

There were big hugs and there was that strange little moment when several years disappear and suddenly you’re standing in front of someone who belongs to an entirely different chapter of your life.

God, I had missed her.

This summer has been brutal in ways I haven’t always talked about publicly. Recovery is a strange thing. You don’t wake up one Tuesday morning with trumpets playing and discover that you’re officially back. You come back in pieces.

A few hours at work, a project finished from the sofa, a catering event, walking a little farther.

Needing to lie down, trying again tomorrow, laughing through the tears and creating something ridiculous for Facebook.

And then somebody from an old chapter walks through a door, wraps her arms around you, and reminds you that pieces of your life are still out there walking around too.

So that’s where I am.

I’m back at Bertolone’s. I’m working, I’m creating, and very slowly, I’m healing.

I’m occasionally overdoing it because apparently three spinal surgeries were insufficient to convince me that I do not, in fact, possess the structural integrity of a forklift.

And since apparently I have decided this is also an excellent opportunity for shameless self-promotion…

If you want more of the woman behind Zia Rosa… the stories, the essays, the things that are considerably too long and occasionally too inappropriate for a Facebook caption, you can find me at www.RoseannaBorelli.com.

Proceed at your own risk. There is no responsible adult supervising that blog.

And if you want a peek behind the curtain at Bertolone’s, go follow The Sauce Boss. 🍅

Sonia Bertolone has her own corner of Facebook where she takes the things that happen inside this restaurant… the conversations, the customers, the staff, something I said, something somebody posted, some completely ordinary Tuesday that went spectacularly off the rails, and turns them into stories. Fabulous stories. And perhaps most importantly, she has access to entirely too much material.

Between Zia Rosa and The Sauce Boss, Bertolone’s currently has two women with Facebook accounts, strong opinions, excellent memories and absolutely no nondisclosure agreements. Management has been advised. Wait, we are management.

But I’m here. And after this summer, being able to say that feels pretty damn good.

~Zia Rosa 🌹🇮🇹🍷

07/31/2026

You thought I was just in bed recovering from THREE spinal surgeries?😏

That’s adorable.

I’ve been busy building an entire investigative series… because apparently I don’t know how to do anything halfway.

🎬 The Family Business: In 120 Seconds
Case File #0001: The Raspberry Dossier

Scorsese, call me.

07/15/2026

If you've been wondering where I've been...

Well, life had a few ideas of its own.

The past four weeks have included more hospitals, surgeries, setbacks, and plot twists than any sensible Sicilian would have ordered.

I finally wrote about it.

Not as a medical update, but as the story underneath all of them.

If you've been following along, thank you for your love, light, thoughts, your messages... they mattered more than you'll ever know.

And if you're meeting me for the first time through this essay... benvenuti.

❤️ Zia Rosa

There are moments in life when hope doesn’t disappear all at once. It simply keeps getting interrupted. You think you’ve reached the hardest part… and then something happens that changes the story.…

06/27/2026

I forgot to mention that I accidentally on purpose turned an entire hospital floor into a literary awards committee.😏

While in the hospital, I recruited nurses, techs, therapists, cafeteria staff, housekeeping, and anyone else who wandered into my room to help judge our storytelling contest.

Some people recover by resting. I recover by holding mock literary tribunals over fictional cats.

Ladies and gentlemen... I proudly present the inaugural Thomas Tiramisù Premio Campiellopaws Storyteller Award. 🏆🐈🇮🇹

www.facebook.com/share/p/198fiVyAJA/?mibextid=wwXIfr

06/24/2026

🍳🇮🇹 RECOVERY UPDATE🇮🇹🍳

HOME. ❤️ Or at least the first stop on the way there.

Last night, just after 5:00pm, I left the hospital after a week, two surgeries, and more coffee than any medical professional would officially recommend.

Sarah took this photo on my way out. The flowers are covering my face because after a week in the hospital, I felt it was best to leave a little mystery in the world.

And this morning, at 3:44 am, for the first time in a long time, I find myself feeling something I wasn't expecting.

Peace.

Not because everything is perfect. Not because all the hard things magically disappeared. Not because there aren't still chapters left to write. But because I've been reminded, over and over again, that I am not walking through any of this alone.

I have friends that have become family who opened their home and their hearts to me without hesitation, and their beautiful daughters have already brought so much joy into my recovery. They each made me the sweetest get-well cards imaginable. I think that's going to be one of my favorite memories from this entire experience.
Maddy wrote a description of me using the letters of my name … And somewhere in her imagination she categorized me as “Obviously a diva” when she got to “O” . 🤣💄 Which, if we’re being honest, is a pretty accurate assessment.

Then, at approximately 4:17:a.m., unable to sleep, I did what any reasonable recovering patient would do…I ordered groceries.

Not because I necessarily needed anything; I think I was just overwhelmed by how loved I felt.
After a week in the hospital, after two surgeries, after all the prayers, messages, flowers, cards, visits, coffee deliveries, and kindness, my brain simply refused to shut off.

So naturally, I made a grocery list.
As one does.

By the first light of day, I had decided I was going upstairs and making breakfast for anyone willing to eat it. Now, for context, I'm staying in the basement.

And when I say basement, I don't mean basement. I mean a beautiful space that's probably larger than my apartment, with gorgeous views, full kitchen, private bedroom and bathroom…all the amenities. However, that meant I had to climb all those stairs to get to the kitchen.

Sarah looked at me like I had completely lost my mind. In fairness, she may have had a point.

But something was calling me upstairs. Not because I needed to cook. Because I needed to feel like myself again. So there I was, standing in the kitchen making my newest breakfast creation:

🌅 L'Alba di Zia Rosa 🌅

Made with sourdough bread, eggs, cheddar cheese, roasted red peppers, ham, butter, olive oil, and a basil-infused dipping sauce. Officially translated as …"Zia Rosa's Sunrise."

My Nonna made a version of this for me when I was a little girl…"Eggs in Purgatory” she called it.

As I cracked eggs, chopped basil, drizzled olive oil into the pan, and fussed over making everything look just right, life was happening all around me. Coffee was brewing. The girls were talking about their day. There were conversations happening across the kitchen. And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn't watching life from the outside.
I was part of it. That's what I needed. Not breakfast. Not even cooking.

Connection.

Then came my favorite moment.
I watched Meghan take the first bite. Then I heard…"Mom, you've got to try this." 🍳 ❤️

Sarah took a bite and immediately said…
"Oh my gosh, this is actually really tasty."
And I cannot adequately explain what that felt like.

I write for a living. Finding words is literally my job. But I don't have words for that moment.

But cooking…Cooking I can always do.

And maybe that's why standing in front of that stove felt so important. For a little while, I wasn't recovering from surgery.
I wasn't counting medications.
I wasn't tracking steps. I wasn't a patient. I was just making breakfast, feeding people I love.

And honestly, that may have been the best medicine I've had all week. ❤️🌹

And yes, it’s been brought to my attention that most people get discharged and celebrate by taking a nap. Apparently, I
celebrated by launching a culinary comeback tour. 🇮🇹👩🏻‍🍳

06/23/2026

🚨🇮🇹 BREAKING NEWS FROM THE THIRD FLOOR 🇮🇹🚨

After several days of extensive medical treatment, countless nerve complaints, and what can only be described as a suspicious amount of kindness from hospital staff, I am officially being released into the wild this evening. The situation has escalated considerably.

Sage from the cafeteria, apparently concerned about the emotional well-being of the hospital's resident Italian, arrived with an extra Luigi's Italian Ice and additional fruit, just now. He affectionately calls me ‘the diva’ and I must admit, the moniker fits.😘

Maya, one of the nurse assistants, appeared with fresh coffee in the middle of the afternoon, despite there being absolutely no medical necessity for such behavior or even my asking. ☕️

Nicole's beautiful flowers continue to brighten my room. 🌹

Meanwhile, The Sauce Boss arrived earlier carrying one of Bertolone's famous strawberry cakes for the nurses, who immediately began questioning whether she was accepting applications for adoption. 🍓 The staff has been so wonderful that I'm beginning to suspect they're trying to convince me to stay.

Unfortunately for them, my discharge has been approved for 5:pm this evening. I'll be spending a few days recovering with Tom and Sarah before finally heading home.

To everyone who has prayed, checked on me, sent messages, brought treats, flowers, coffee, laughter, and encouragement...

Thank you. More than you know.

I have a longer than usual recovery ahead of me, since there were two surgeries back to back… but if I behave, I’m told I’ll be good as new in 9-12 weeks. Now if you'll excuse me, I must get ready for my date with freedom, a comfortable pillow, and a complete absence of hospital gowns.

~ Zia Rosa 🌹
Director of Cafeteria Diplomacy & Unsolicited Kindness

06/23/2026

🚨☕ OFFICIAL RECOVERY UPDATE ☕🚨

This morning, Physical Therapist Eric arrived with what can only be described as unreasonable expectations. Apparently, he wanted me to walk the hallway.
And then he wanted me to do stairs. 😳

Now, I may have recently undergone my second back surgery in five days, but I was not born yesterday. Before agreeing to these terms, I requested clarification regarding compensation.

Specifically…

☕ Fresh coffee from the nurse's station
☕ ❌Not the cafeteria coffee
☕ A second cup if circumstances warranted

After careful negotiations, while standing still and refusing to take even one step, an agreement was reached.

I then proceeded to:

✅ Walk the entire hallway
✅ Reach the end of the hallway
✅ Return from the end of the hallway….

✅ CLIMB STAIRS … up & down!

✅ Do all of this WITHOUT a walker!

Did I move quickly…Nope.

I've witnessed intoxicated Italian uncles at family weddings achieve greater speeds. I’ve seen Edgar water my basil and flowers with more gusto (barely)…But speed was never the objective.

Coffee was. ☕️

Upon successful completion of the mission, I returned to my room where breakfast arrived approximately three seconds later.

At this point, I would like the record to reflect that the cafeteria gentleman greeted me by saying… "Don't worry, Rosa, there’s no pasta or salad today."
Apparently my reputation now extends beyond my medical chart.😏

The attached photo contains evidence of the negotiated settlement, including two cups of coffee and enough sugar packets to concern several medical professionals.

So, my medical records should now include my previously agreed upon and updated Geneva Convention of Sicilian Recovery Efforts, that include a fresh cup of coffee ☕ A second cup of coffee ☕ Unlimited sugar packets

And somewhere in the distance, a physical therapist named Eric is probably filling out paperwork that simply says…

“Patient appears to be powered entirely by caffeine, stubbornness, and Sicilian spite.”

‼️Current status: Recovering well.‼️

It may just be another Tuesday morning for you, but before Physical Therapy arrived, I had already been awake since 4:30 a.m. conducting highly important research regarding trellis systems for the rapidly expanding grapevine growing outside the restaurant. Bertolone's

At this point, Montepulciano has become far too ambitious for its current living arrangements and requires additional infrastructure.

Some patients focus exclusively on recovery. I, apparently, am managing an agricultural expansion project from a hospital bed, while also winning arguments and seriously considering additional stair-related activities if further coffee incentives are offered.

~ Zia Rosa 🌹
Union Representative for Post-Operative Italians🇮🇹
Reporting live from a hospital recliner where I am somehow recovering from surgery, negotiating coffee contracts, and procuring a trellis for a grapevine named Montepulciano.

06/22/2026

🚨🍇OFFICIAL HOSPITAL UPDATE 🍇🚨

Good news.

It turns out I was not, in fact, being dramatic. (Shocker, I know.)

During today's surgery, the surgeon discovered another fragment pressing on the nerves, removed it, and confirmed that my nerves are severely swollen, angry, and apparently of Mediterranean descent.

So for everyone keeping score at home:

Zia Rosa: 1

Existential self-doubt: 0

The doctors expect that swelling to calm down, but it may take a little longer than usual because these nerves are committed to the drama.

The best news….I'm expected to make a full recovery and return to baseline.

The less exciting news…for the next three months I am not allowed to lift anything over five pounds. Which now makes a family-sized pan of lasagna a workplace hazard.

I don't have a discharge date yet, but hopefully I'll be heading home sometime late tomorrow or Wednesday. For now, I'm back in my room, resting, behaving myself (😏), and enjoying what may have been the greatest chicken salad croissant sandwich ever served to a woman who has spent nearly a week in a hospital.

Most importantly, thank you. The messages, prayers, good thoughts, candles, kind words, and support that somehow traveled across multiple states and time zones have meant more than I can possibly explain.

Today, I'm smiling for two reasons.
One, my spine is going to be okay.
And two, The Sauce Boss stopped by before heading home to take care of her family, and made me smile, laugh and look forward to our next chapter in life. Some people arrive in your life and become friends. Others show up and somehow become family.

You know who you are. ❤️

Oh, and Sarah brought me red grapes.🍇 Unfortunately, hospital policy continues to frown upon my plan to convert them into a respectable Sicilian red. So, after careful consideration, I've agreed to take the pill version instead.

The doctors repaired my spine.
The nurses repaired my blood pressure.The grapes are doing what they can.

Thank you to everyone who has prayed, checked in, sent messages, brought snacks, visited, and generally kept me from becoming completely feral during my extended stay.

In the meantime, I will be resting, healing, and continuing to evaluate all fruit for its w**emaking potential.

🍇🇮🇹❤️~ Zia Rosa
Director of Public Relations, Grape Inspection Services, and Pharmaceutical W**e Substitution