When Steve and I were on our honeymoon we ate focaccia every morning for breakfast. After a few cappuccinos, that is. Six between us. To fortify us for the walk across the piazza to the tiny bakery. After all, we were in Italy. Doing what you do in Italy. Wake up. Rub the garlic infused sleep from your eyes. Pull on your jeans. Walk to the local espresso bar. Zip. Boom. Buon giorno!
The owner of the Podere Villuzza would greet us every morning on our way out the door, wishing us a good day, For your blue moon!
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