Mel's post yesterday got me thinking...
I make no bones about my love of food. I'm Italian and food is like another language to us. We celebrate with food, comfort with food, find our way into each other's hearts with food, pass recipes down through generations, teach techniques, spend time discussing food, even shopping for certain ingredients becomes an event.
Food is one of my greatest pleasures and my biggest downfalls. Because I love it too much. Which is why I'm adding yoga to my workout routine today. (If only food didn't love me back quite so well.)
If I were dying and only had one meal left, I know without a shadow of doubt what that meal would be: spaghetti and meatballs. What would yours be?