Roma, Italia

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Ever since I was a little girl I’ve felt the pull of Italy. It may have had something to do with my best friend at the age of seven being half Italian and spending many a evenings at her place, being treated to authentic Italian food that her dad would slave away in the kitchen to make us each night. I  definitely didn’t realize back then how incredibly lucky I was to be getting home made Italian food. I even recall the first time he offered me prosciutto (okay, in an Italian household it’s less of an offer and more of a loving, yet forceful ‘eat this! you’ll love it!’). I bit my tongue and swallowed the salty gob down doing my best not to gag. The second he looked away, I held my hand under the table so that their labrador Moses could snatch it from my hands, helping us both out. I feigned fullness when he saw how quickly I had eaten it as he thought I must have loved it and wanted more.  I’m happy to say my pallet has improved and I now do enjoy prosciutto! Continue reading