Food is such a vital part of a cultural identity, and when something like that is lost, it can cause great sadness. Imagine if Philidelphia lost its famous cheese steak, if New York lost its pizza, if you lost your grandmother’s cookie recipe or if you lost your favorite childhood meals. 

Marquette County-based Yoopers are about to find ourselves in that situation with the loss of Ralph’s Italian Deli in Ishpeming, and at the end of the month lose the best Cudighi in the Upper Peninsula. 

Unless they’re from the U.P., I can’t imagine many students at Northern Michigan University are aware of what Cudighi is. Just like the Upper Peninsula of Michigan is home to pasties, Ishpeming is home to Cudighi. It is a mild to spicy Italian sausage, with various spices and often mixed with a bit of red wine. 

In short, its one of the best things to eat and no place makes it better than Ralphs. You can put cudighi on pizza, in pasta or anything else that requires sausage, but the best way is on a sandwich. For me, there is only one way to have that sandwich: covered in mozzarella cheese, smothered in marinara sauce and with some onions on it. Others may prefer it with ketchup or mustard, but thats not the best way, which is to eat it like a pizza sandwich. 

It seems like such a minute thing, to lose a restaurant, but Ralph’s is more than that. It is the kitchen of Ishpeming. To know that it’s finally over after being open since 1986 is heartbreaking. We lost the best pasty shop in the U.P., Jean Kayes Pasties and Subs, in 2022 after so many years of service to the community when they opened in 1975.

It is always hard to say goodbye to things you love, and even more sad when you forget about them. That day will come when I forget what the taste was like when my dad first brought me to Ralph’s for my first cudighi, or when I went there after I landed my first big job or even now as I eat my potentially last one. 

That feeling comes to everyone, I imagine, as you forget the taste of your moms cooking, or grandmas, or fathers or grandfathers. That time comes in everyones life when their memories become tasteless — when a sense is lost to the annals remembrance and the echo of memory is just a sliver less whole. That is just the start of it, soon the name and faces fade and none can remember what’s left. 

Today I mourn a restaurant and a sandwich, but theres more to it. I mourn the memories I’ll lose of it.