When Rishi swung by the other day on our way to the vineyards, he came bearing a gift: a Ziploc bag containing thinly sliced meat. “It looks like carpaccio,” I said. “It’s Bresaola,” he said, before putting it in the fridge. I’m embarrassed to admit … Read More →
I Eat Bresaola, I Swoon
When Rishi swung by the other day on our way to the vineyards, he came bearing a gift: a Ziploc bag containing thinly sliced meat. “It looks like carpaccio,” I said. “It’s Bresaola,” he said, before putting it in the fridge. I’m embarrassed to admit … Read More →