I just got back from my first trip to the supermercato (three guesses what that means…oh, cognates, I love you). It was adventure all its own.
First, the supermarket was packed! And the Italians drive their carts like they drive their cars, so I was in perpetual danger of getting run over. Then, I made a shopping faux pax when I touched the fruit with my bare hands. Apparently, even when you only touch your own fruit (shut up,
Speaking of his greatness, he stopped me from buying red wine vinegar. Ends up, he makes his own, and wow, is it good. I could drink that stuff right out of the bottle. But I won’t, because I have real wine waiting for me in the kitchen.
I also bought a flower plant. I think it was my mom who taught me that it’s nice to be surrounded by living stuff. Doesn’t it match the tablecloth wonderfully?
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