I love Italian food! It's a love affair that didn't start until I studied languages and lived alone in a tiny studio apartment that my then husband-to-be called "the box." The apartment had an even tinier kitchen, so small, in fact, that when I stood in the center and stretched out my arms, I could touch all four walls.
There was a small under-counter fridge and a two-burner on top of it for cooking. A sink and cupboard completed this kitchen. No oven. No microwave. No dishwasher. No room. Needless to say, it was not a place to dream up gourmet meals and execute them. My standard fare during those years consisted mostly of sandwiches because they didn't require cooking and all the makings could be stored in the fridge.
Cooking for friends was always a challenge until the day I realized that, hello!, with two burners I could cook pasta on one burner and sauce on the other one. A tossed salad and a loaf of baguette from the bakery completed the meal. I spent a couple of years of my life entertaining just like that. A simple meal, cooked with enjoyment and eaten with satisfaction, marked the day I embraced Italian food. To this day, without a trace in my ancestry to point to Italy, in my heart I am an Italian cook. I should have been Italian.
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