prosciutto di Parma

Why I Dream of Pasta

  I awoke at 2 am this morning, dreaming of pasta. Not pasta, per se, but the act of making pasta, of making a ragged dough by dumping a heap of flour onto a kitchen table (not mine) and forming a well, adding eggs and a pinch of salt, kneading the dough into a rectangle, […]

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Seeing a Man About a Pig

It was very strange. In the past, whenever I’ve visited Italy, I’ve been able to get by, language-wise. For one thing, Italians tend to be an enormously gracious and generous people, and even if they’re in a cranky mood, they still manage to be helpful and kind-natured. Which, in turn, makes the non-Italian speaking American […]

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