Street poster advertising pita, which I will lust for in months ahead. There's be only Mom's ravioli and apple tarts to take its place.
Hawley and I get a goodbye from Sasha who has promised to have a new dish featuring Ruzmarin and named for me at Karuso's in December. There better not be turnips or pineapple in it.
Sarajevo showing off. The place is battered, littered and shabby, yet it can look like a Turner painting. How does it do that?
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