Back when I lived in Alabama I became friends with a girl whose grandmother, Agata was from Sicily. We’d ride out to the sleepy little town of Alabaster on Sunday afternoons where the granny would be busying herself in the kitchen-dealing out culinary trump cards of pure deliciousness.

The piece, authored this very day 3 years ago

Occasionally we rifle through our archives via a site gadget and post a link to an old article like this one.

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