Frittata

When I was younger, my days often followed the same pattern of rational mornings turning into dreamy afternoons and evenings. I still dream a lot but I guess there are more practical things these days, especially caring for the kids, so the pattern has become a bit less reliable.

This morning, I continued my Italian cooking adventures with a goat’s cheese frittata and the remaining gremolata. That alone put me back into the world of fictional February hikes around Positano or the memory of finally getting off a night train in the mist at Venezia Santa Lucia and being served the best cappuccino ever.