“Do we really want to travel in hermetically sealed pope mobiles through the rural provinces of France, Mexico and the Far East, eating only in Hard Rock Cafes and McDonalds? Or do we want to eat without fear, tearing into the local stew, the humble taqueria's mystery meat, the sincerely offered gift of a lightly grilled fish head? I know what I want. I want it all. I want to try everything once.” ―Anthony Bourdain, Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly
Vicenzina’s Biscotti
My ex-husband’s mother, Vincenzina (Vini, as she liked to be called), passed away last April. She wasn’t perfect. Old-school Italian from Verbicaro, a small town in Cosenza, she was stubborn, lied with enviable polish, and was a talented cook.