You are the wind in my sails. Whether you read my blog, my articles, or my books; follow my recipes or listen to my periodic radio broadcasts, I think we are fellow travelers. I like to call you my tribe. It would be a lonely journey without you. I love your letters and comments; the questions about recipes; your reports of triumph; the inquiries in search of lost ancestral recipes and accounts of new discoveries; in short, knowing how you’re coming along. I’m awed by the occasional treasures you send me—home-made jams of garden berries and honey all the way from Ireland; a hand-turned bowl carved by a wood artisan in County Limerick; a grape vine preserved in glass sent from an Italian vineyard; a purse of rare pinoli gathered in the disappearing pine forests of Tuscany; a tin of sugary tomatoes delivered from the slopes of Mount Vesuvius; fragrant oils from the olive lands of an American transplanted in Puglia; a heavenly panettone riddled with the Amarena cherries I’m mad about; a cotechino sausage hand-made by an Italian neighbor on the west bank of the Hudson River. Know that the offerings are savored and treasured. My cup is full. Grazie from my heart.
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