The little green shack at the corner of 4th and High Street in Elizabeth stands silent now. After 107 years of serving up the finest Italian ice in New Jersey, DiCosmo’s has closed its doors for the final time, and the bulldozers are coming. For those of us whose families emigrated from the same hillside villages of southern Italy, this isn’t just the end of a business—it’s the closing of a chapter in our shared American story.
My family, the La Vecchias and the Cornacchios, arrived in Elizabeth from Vallata, Italy, in the late 1950s, part of that second great wave of Italian immigration that transformed American cities. We came seeking opportunity, carrying nothing but hope and the recipes of our ancestors. Little did we know that another family from our same mountain village—the DiCosmos—would create something that would become a New Jersey institution for over a century.
The Vallata Connection
Vallata, nestled in the mountains of Avellino province in Campania, was a place our parents spoke of with both longing and pragmatism. Life was hard in the old country. The rocky soil yielded just enough to survive, and young men and women looked across the Atlantic for something better. When Giovanni DiCosmo made the decision to leave Vallata for America in the early 1910s, he was following a path worn smooth by thousands of his paesani.
What makes the DiCosmo story remarkable is how they transformed their Vallata heritage into something uniquely American, serving “traditional Italian Ice” and “hand crafted with real fruit since 1915.” This wasn’t just about making a living—it was about preserving a piece of the old country while embracing the new.
Building an Institution
The “Little Green Shack that, for over a century has been cooling off the community with the best Italian Ice in the world” became more than just a business. It became a gathering place, a touchstone for generations of Elizabeth families, and a symbol of how Italian immigrants didn’t just assimilate—they enriched Italian-American culture.
The DiCosmo family didn’t just make Italian ice; they perfected it. While other vendors might cut corners or use artificial flavors, the DiCosmos stuck to the old ways. Real fruit, simple ingredients, and the patience to do things right. As one local publication noted, “Elizabeth has changed, but not the DiCosmo family, which has made Italian ices the old-fashioned way for 100 years.”
The Taste of Memory
Anyone who grew up in Elizabeth—or anywhere in Union County, for that matter—most likely have DiCosmo’s memories. The anticipation of that first taste on a sweltering summer day. The way the ice crystals would melt on your tongue, releasing bursts of lemon, cherry, or orange flavor so pure and intense it was like tasting sunshine itself. The ritual of choosing your flavor from the handwritten signs, the friendly banter with whoever was working the window that day.
During their 100th anniversary celebration in 2015, they sold ice at the original price of 5 cents for a pleated paper cup, a nostalgic nod to simpler times when “a small styrofoam cup of DiCosmo ice costs $2.” That gesture captured something essential about the family—they never forgot where they came from or the community that supported them.
More Than Just a Family Business
What strikes me most about the DiCosmo story is how it mirrors the experience of so many Italian-American families. When John DiCosmo’s grandparents opened the shop 106 years ago, they were building more than a business—they were creating a legacy. Four generations later, that legacy has touched countless lives.
“The iconic DiCosmo’s Italian Ices shop in Elizabeth sits at or near the top of just about every food critic or food lover’s list of the best in New Jersey,” but for those of us with roots in the same Italian soil, it represents something deeper. It’s proof that you can honor your heritage while building something new, something American.
The expansion to Metuchen in recent years showed that the DiCosmo tradition could travel beyond Elizabeth’s borders. With “Eileen O’Connor, great-granddaughter of the founders” operating the new outpost, the family was ensuring that “four generations of making delicious ice” would continue. But Elizabeth was always home base, always the heart of the operation.
The Changing Face of Elizabeth
Elizabeth today is vastly different from the city our parents and grandparents knew. The Italian families who once dominated certain neighborhoods have largely moved to the suburbs. The corner stores and family businesses that defined urban life for generations have given way to chains and corporate entities. In this context, DiCosmo’s survival for 107 years becomes even more remarkable.
As the family explained when seeking a buyer, they wanted to find someone “who will keep the tradition alive.” It’s a sentiment that resonates with anyone who has watched family businesses struggle to survive in an increasingly corporate world. Sometimes, despite the best intentions, the next generation takes a different path.
The End of an Era
Now, as the little green shack faces demolition, we’re forced to confront what we’ve lost. This isn’t just about Italian ice, though DiCosmo’s was undoubtedly the best. It’s about the end of an era when family businesses could survive for over a century, when recipes passed down from Italian grandmothers could sustain multiple generations, when a simple product made with care and pride could become a beloved institution.
For those of us whose families share the Vallata connection, DiCosmo’s closing feels personal. We’re losing a tangible link to our shared past, a reminder that the dreams our ancestors carried across the ocean could indeed come true in America. The DiCosmos proved that you could honor your Italian heritage while becoming thoroughly American, that hard work and dedication could build something lasting.
What’s Next?
The question that haunts many longtime customers is whether anyone will pick up where the DiCosmos left off. Making authentic Italian ice isn’t rocket science, but it requires the kind of patience and commitment that seems increasingly rare in our fast-paced world. It demands a willingness to do things the right way, even when shortcuts might be more profitable.
Perhaps someone will step forward to preserve not just the recipes but the spirit of what DiCosmo’s represented. Perhaps a new generation of entrepreneurs will find inspiration in this century-old success story. Or perhaps we’ll simply have to content ourselves with memories of what once was.
A Vallatese Legacy
The building may be torn down, but the legacy endures. In the memories of countless customers, in the proof that Italian-American dreams could flourish, and in the knowledge that sometimes, the simplest things—real fruit, pure ice, and family pride—can create something truly extraordinary.
DiCosmo’s Italian Ice wasn’t just a business; it was a bridge between the old world and the new, between Vallata and Elizabeth, between the dreams of Italian immigrants and the reality of American success. That bridge may be coming down, but for those of us who crossed it, the journey was unforgettable.
Grazie, DiCosmo family. Grazie for 107 years of keeping our Vallatese heritage alive, one perfect cup of Italian ice at a time. Check out their website and Metuchen location here.
Tom is a lifelong New Jersey resident, Rutgers and FDU alumni and the publisher of The Digest.
