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Cream of white wine sauce is thick.
It’s too much.
It is ugly.
And yet … it’s delicious.
It is Aunt Lillian not coming to mom moms funeral because she is at Pastosa buying ravioli.
It’s Christine’s new tongue piercing getting enflamed because she ate a spoonful of sauce.
It is Uncle Larry texting Cousin Johnny the word “eggplant” at 3am from his hospice bed.
It is Aunt Millie killing Aunt Chickie’s bird because there was powdered sugar on the canolis.
It’s a sweet little play concocted from real and exaggerated moments on my Italian side of the family, but through, like … a jewish lens.
635 Sackett Street
Brooklyn, NY, 11217