About 40 years ago, I cut a recipe for granola out of the Boston Globe and put it in a pile which grew ever larger, burying the recipe for about twenty many years. Twelve years ago, when Roger and I were visiting his Swedish relatives in Stockholm, his cousin Agneta treated us to her homemade [...]
I know it’s redundant, but I am an Italian foodie. My two sisters and I grew up in a thoroughly Italian household with a Sicilian mom and a Neopolitan dad—both equally good cooks. My dad and uncle owned a small Italian restaurant together, and it was the place to go for great home style Italian food, including wonderful homemade pizza. My dad has passed on; but, to this day, even if my 80-plus-year-old mom doesn’t know you’re coming, she’ll pull a 5-course meal out of the fridge in no time flat.
