At the time when my parents were part of a Polyphonic Choir, my father as a tenor and my mother as aΒ *contralto*, I was a young woman who was finishing her studies and followed them on their travels around the city, in Italy, and abroad, for their concerts. I had become the mascot of the group and knew all the members of the choir who considered me as their daughter.
Among the colleagues of the choir who later also became friends with my mother, Grazianella, a woman from the North of Italy andΒ *contralto*Β like my mother, was a happy and reassuring presence. She is the inspirer for this recipe forΒ *Torta di Riso di Grazianella (Italian Rice Cake)*, which she gave to my mother many years ago and which I found on a small notebook, handwritten by my mother and with some stains of ancient memory on the page.
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At the time when my parents were part of a Polyphonic Choir, my father as a tenor and my mother as aΒ *contralto*, I was a young woman who was finishing her studies and followed them on their travels around the city, in Italy, and abroad, for their concerts. I had become the mascot of the group and knew all the members of the choir who considered me as their daughter.
Among the colleagues of the choir who later also became friends with my mother, Grazianella, a woman from the North of Italy andΒ *contralto*Β like my mother, was a happy and reassuring presence. She is the inspirer for this recipe forΒ *Torta di Riso di Grazianella (Italian Rice Cake)*, which she gave to my mother many years ago and which I found on a small notebook, handwritten by my mother and with some stains of ancient memory on the page.
It goes on and on and on like this.
Area poster discovers SEO for the first time.
*The playful bite of arborio rice*.
The food here isn’t stupid.