RecipeMuncher

I dropped over to visit my grandmother one summer afternoon in blistering heat. After the expected hug and kiss and pull of the skin around the belly (yes, she was satisfied that I am eating well), I kindly denied her request to make a sandwich of some cold meats and lettuce. We sat down to an espresso and some biscotti dusted with icing sugar, and we chat for a while, with many questions primed to be sure of her wellbeing, her health and outlook, and of course, to feign interest in her stories (...)