The composition was a trattoria in a shadier part of a somewhat upscale (in parts) college town. Tre Stelle, three stars in Italian, because initially there were three and then there were two. The things seen were art on the walls, sculptures scattered across the floor, copper counters, a wood-fired pizza oven, an Illy espresso machine. A a Hobart dough-kneading machine in the kitchen with the face of a pig painted on it. A Hobart dishwasher. Choice bottles of Italian wine cellared in the dank and cobwebbed cellar down a flight of rickety steps…
Travel without Traveling: Stanley Tucci’s Searching for Italy
I have spent the past few days attempting to fit random-shaped jigsaw pieces into a puzzle. My back is to the television set where my convalescing spouse watches the second season of Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy for the second time; we originally saw them during the pandemic when they first migrated from CNN (which we don’t get because we don’t have cable) to HBO…
Our 21st Century Victory Garden
The rains have pretty much arrived here in Western Oregon. And we are in the final stages of putting most of our 400-square foot plot at the Woodlawn Community Garden to bed. Oh, there will be stuff growing over the winter like always—…
Soup for Brunch
While most of Saturday was consumed by periodic searches for the missing car key—I’d driven myself and the car home on Thursday, it had to be here somewhere—I made time to whip up a batch of Moosewood’s Cream of Broccoli soup, updated by Mollie K.
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