I remember what it feels like to count food before you eat it.
I grew up in a family where every meal mattered. My parents worked the land in Italy, and when the economy shifted, everything changed overnight. Income shrank. Certainty disappeared. I can still see the table, bread, small portions, and careful hands deciding who gets what. In those moments, something rooted itself deep inside me: a promise that no one at my table would ever go without.
That promise became my compass.
There was no blueprint guiding me. I stepped into this life with urgency. I left behind athletics, something I loved, because my family needed support. I went to work in kitchens and hotels, learning fast, working harder, absorbing everything. Food became my way to give. A way to connect. A way to restore dignity in the simplest, most human way.
My journey took me across Europe, then to the Caribbean, and eventually to the United States. In Europe, I had recognition. I had momentum. Then I arrived in America and became invisible again. No reputation or network. Just skill, belief and the willingness to start from zero. Having that reset taught me something that lives with me even today. Identity is what you carry when no one knows your name.
So I rebuilt, step by step. I opened restaurants, created concepts, and slowly, people began to see me again. Then 2008 arrived, with the recession hitting everything hard. Sales began dropping, and customers were losing their jobs. Many walked into my restaurant, carrying stories of uncertainty, some even offering furniture instead of payment.
I saw fear in their eyes, and I recognized it.
So I asked myself a simple question: how can I help? I created smaller portions at half the price so people could still sit down, eat and feel normal amidst all the chaos, even if it was just for a moment. It wasn't some arbitrary strategy guiding that decision. It was empathy, and it worked. My business grew during a time when many were closing their doors. When you focus on people, everything else aligns.
Years later, I faced an even deeper challenge. COVID arrived, and it felt like the ground disappeared beneath us. I had just invested heavily in a distillery. Funds were gone. I had over 50 employees depending on me. I remember holding what little money I had left and asking myself the same question again: how can I help?
I created a $20 three-course meal. It was accessible, comforting, and real food for people navigating uncertainty. Turns out, that's what people needed. Orders began flooding in. We kept our team working and supported our suppliers. Most importantly, we kept the doors open, even when the world felt like it had closed down.
At the same time, I partnered with the community to feed healthcare workers. Donations came in, some were small, some were large, but all were heartfelt. We turned them into meals for those on the frontlines. Every plate carried food, and with it care, gratitude, and something most of us desperately needed: connection.
I've always believed that we are here to serve something bigger than ourselves. This, I knew, was my contribution.
Food has always been about emotion. It brings people together, it tells stories, it heals in ways that go beyond the physical. It heals the soul. When I cook and serve, I think about how people feel. This is where real value lives. There were moments during COVID when I believed everything I had built was gone. Years of work, sacrifice, and growth reduced to uncertainty. I stood there with almost nothing again.
And yet, I held onto one idea. If I can see it in my mind, I can build it again. That belief became my foundation.
I learned from mentors who spoke about vision and mindset, about living as if your goals already exist. I took that seriously. I trained my mind to see success before it arrived. I acted with certainty even when the evidence wasn't there yet. Slowly, things began to fall into place. Opportunities appeared, and solutions revealed themselves. Piece by piece, the structure was rebuilt.
Today, I lead multiple businesses. I work with over 100 employees. I mentor young talent. I invest in people who carry that same fire I once had. Yet none of this ever defined success for me. What did, and what continues to define it is the ability to create impact, to uplift others, to turn struggle into something meaningful.
I have seen firsthand what happens when people stop believing in themselves. I have seen how doubt can slowly creep in and destroy potential. This is why I advocate for self-belief over everything else. If you don't believe you can do it, you most likely won't. It's that simple.
There is always a chance. As long as there is life, there is a path forward.
I built my life from moments where everything felt ambiguous. I still carry that memory of the table, the bread, the careful portions. It keeps me grounded and reminds me why I started in the first place. It reminds me of who I want to serve. I am here to feed people, to bring them together, to create something that lasts beyond the plate.
And I'm not done yet.
About the Author:
Nicola Allegretta is the founder of Mama's Meatballs, a chef and entrepreneur whose journey spans continents, cultures, and industries. He leads multiple hospitality ventures and is committed to building community through food, mentorship, and purpose-driven business.
