Piccolo: The restaurant where I grew up, and my family's legacy

While so many Long Islanders knew Piccolo in Bellmore as their favorite restaurant, I have always known it as my home. With a heavy heart, I watched my family’s business close its doors this summer after 47 incredible years of serving the Bellmore community. What began as my grandparents’ dream of coming to America and building a better life became so much more.

Through hard work, sacrifice and an unwavering love for southern Italian cooking, that dream started as a neighborhood pizzeria on Bedford Avenue before growing into the full-service restaurant on Sunrise Highway, a place where generations of families gathered to celebrate life’s biggest milestones and simplest moments.

My father Tommy Valenti Sr., mother Donna, two brothers Tommy and Rob, and sister Lori could almost always be found within those walls. We spent countless hours working side by side, learning what it meant to be a family business.

Piccolo was where I grew up. Some of my most treasured memories are walking in to the aroma of pizza baking in the oven, dancing down the hallway of mirrors on both sides, and hearing the clacking of pots in the kitchen with the sound of families laughing in the dining room. My childhood meals consisted of Italian food most days of the week, made to order just for me. I was the luckiest kid in the world — with an unlimited supply of garlic knots and pizza!

Witnessing my father’s life’s work was an absolute honor. For decades, I watched him pour everything he had into Piccolo, not just as a business owner, but as someone who genuinely cared about every person who walked through our doors. Long hours and late nights were spent there to ensure families were fed by his love for food. With passion comes sacrifice, and although I missed my father at home and at events, I knew he was just around the corner at my second home.

Aside from introducing Sicilian pizza to Bellmore in 1962 at the first location, my father was always cultivating new recipes. For as long as I can remember, he was constantly perfecting old favorites and creating new ones — Chicken Shoemaker and Shrimp Christi . . . chef’s kiss. My mother was by his side and they built a life together there.

I will always be grateful for the years I spent working in the dining room alongside my mother and my brother Rob. We took pride in making sure every guest felt as though they were gathered around their own family dinner table. From greetings through dessert, we all loved to watch smiles light up the dining room. For me, the restaurant felt like one huge kitchen table surrounded by those eager to mingle, laugh and eat Italian food.

The last 20 years of Piccolo were guided by my brother Tom, with the help of my sister Lori, and included the next generation of Valentis: my nephews Tommy and Nicholas and niece Bianca. They continued to build the business by expanding into catering off premises and hosting in-house events. They faced COVID-19 and the closing of the dining room for a substantial amount of time, learning to navigate a new normal as they carried our family’s legacy.

As I grew older, I realized that while Piccolo shaped my family, all of our customers helped shape Piccolo. Watching generations of familiar faces welcome the restaurant into their most cherished celebrations has been one of life’s greatest gifts. Time and time again I was reminded that food has an incredible way of bringing people together. We were honored to be the trusted gathering place for local organizations, clubs, fellow businesses, sports teams and countless families who made us part of their traditions for almost half a century. What we’re leaving behind is far greater than a restaurant; it’s the immeasurable connections and experiences that were formed here for so many families.

I hope the Bellmore and Long Island community will continue to hold Piccolo and the Valenti family close to their hearts, just as we will always hold them close to ours.

Piccolo has closed its doors, but the legacy my grandparents began, my father devoted his life to, and my mother lovingly supported became a part of all of us.

Piccolo isn’t just my childhood; it became a cornerstone of our community. This is not ciao, but simply arrivederci.