I remember it like it was yesterday: my grandmother plunked a Meissen platter of her special, matzo meal-dredged fried chicken in front of me and implored me to eat. I did, slicing into a golden, crispy, kosher breast with a dinner knife. “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, scowling. “Eating my chicken,” I […]
Read the full article →
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 […]
Read the full article →