Back in the day, when I was living stably in Italy, I would often be invited to large gatherings of families and friends, sometimes in the countryside on the old family farm or vineyard. Inevitably there would be a division, the men over here yakking, the women over there cooking. At one point I would, inevitably, go over to see what the women were making and how they made it. My entrance – a priest in the kitchen! – usually created a bit of a stir. However, as I expressed my desire to learn how they made things and got my hands dirty my stock soared.
I was reminded of all this today, when a book arrived from a reader, CG, who also had sent something else that had, long ago, been on my wish list but had been long removed. I received a copy of