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Published 2009
Throughout my childhood, my paternal grandmother regaled me with stories of the Balkans, where she was born. “Someday, Paulina, I hope you will go back to the old country. When you’re there, you’ll eat wonderful, wonderful food. And be sure and taste the yogurt. I think it’s the best in the world.”
In the 1960s, during my beatnik days, I did visit the region, spending a month in the Macedonian town of Ohrid near the Albanian border. My grandma