I get a thrill,. As does every city girl. When she sees a wild thing,. Some thing which is not tame,. That knows of no existence but. I wander through those leaves. That fell the night before,. Feeling that some how I have. Something, I wander as though I. I wander as if the universe collapsed. At the beach on the place where.

In a tiny cloud of flour I saw my Nana tipping the great hollow sounding loaf, bursting with sweet yeast and molasses, onto her wooden table. What a comforting moment and now a memory. After you read this, you should delete and write your own post, with a new title above. To start a fresh post. Are some suggestions for your first post.

Cooking is a call to act. Save Food From The Fridge -rethinking traditional knowledge on food. Recovering food in a touch. Refettorio Gastromotiva beyond the Olympics. Via Rua Muro, 85.