Until I got my DNA results a few years ago, I was convinced — due entirely to family pride, the family tree and my nonna’s pronunciation of particular words — that I was at the very least a quarter Italian. After all, we made pizzelles every Christmas alongside sugar cookies and my grandmother pronounced prosciutto “pro-SHOOT” and called the cheese that goes atop pizza “mozzarell.”

But, as Ancestry.com ultimately informed me, I’m only slightly more Italian than a Viking (less than 5%, to be precise) — not that it ever kept me and my family from seeking out Little Italy neighborhoods for cannolis and pro-SHOOT every place we went, of course. Wondering where to find a Little Italy in the U.S. that promises to be more Italian than I am?