My Italian friend Maria is an amazing cook, better than anyone. At least that’s the myth she created around herself, and I’m willing to believe her. Maria’s parents had an olive grove in Calabria. While folding laundry together Maria tells me stories of how her mother used to make fresh mozzarella and then ricotta from the leftover whey. How the fireplace was always burning so that they could steam beans and that the next morning the glowin
