There’s A Lot Riding on This Pork Sandwich

Porchetta in Rome

It is midnight on a Saturday in Rome, and there is an air of silent devastation at our table. We have eaten a bad Chinese meal. There is prolonged bickering, erratic blaming, contemplation on the confusion that globalization brings. We wonder if our chefs were really Chinese. And what we should drink to erase the memory of the last hour.

It’s a tense hour, but I suggest, to a hum of agreement, that the next days should be about culinary redemption. Someone announces...

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