by Patricia Nieh
(Portola Valley, CA, USA)
Who wouldn't jump at the chance to dine at the home of a friend in Tuscany? I arrived right on time and was charmed with the table outdoors set with sturdy crockery. Hens scratched about nearby.
I was introduced to family members who welcomed me warmly. They tactfully navigated their way through my stumbling Italian as we traded pleasantries. Meanwhile I was peripherally intrigued by the tantalizing aromas emanating from the kitchen.
We were all soon eating delicious pasta and then the next course was triumphantly delivered by the perspiring cook. A large platter of something brown and lumpy was passed around. I shot at inquisitive look at the person next to me. "Bull's balls!"
he said in his best American English.
I tried but could not partake in that quintessentially Italian dish. Here's one I did eat and enjoy.
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