We are seated with much fanfare at a table of honor in the packed dining room at Nogherazzi. The "scraps" the chef has selected to feed us with are yummy, mostly unknown, and I gave up counting how many courses we were served after course #5. The chef comes out of the kitchen to personally distribute each course with great flourish and dignity. Imagine my dismay to discover he also inspects the remains of each course and if the plate is not completely cleaned he fixes the diner with great big sad spaniel eyes. I am speaking of course, about me. Luckily, sitting to my right is my brother-in-law Gary who evidently has a bottomless stomach. He whispers to me: " Psst! Swap plates with me! " Problem solved, and I am no longer guilted to death.
The Christmas Party at Nogherazza
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