Sounds like my family.

Raffaela sat in the far corner of her Culbertson school classroom – too embarrassed to eat lunch in front of the other children.

She quietly unfolded the newspaper covering her meal and hoped that no one would smell the garlic and olive oil wafting in the air. Once, her lunch leaked through the newspaper and the cloakroom reeked for days. She sighed.
Why does it have to be roasted peppers on homemade Italian bread? Why can't it be peanut butter and jelly like my friend Lois? And why do we have spaghetti every day of the year? When I get married I'll never have pasta again. Good old American roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy. That's what I want when I grow up.
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http://www.ocregister.com/articles/italian-ham-michele-2619329-bianca-one?referrer=google