You need grappa, he said, and walked away. We shifted uncomfortably, uncertain about what would happen next. We were ready to go, just unable to make our bodies move. Abbiocco. And now we couldn't leave without being rude.
If there is a dish more emblematic of my cooking story than cheese soufflé, I can't think what it would be. By now you've heard this tale, or bits of it, many times: my mother, who trained herself first by watching and later by reading, trained me to cook by virtue of the fact that … Continue reading Inhale, exhale.