Back in the early 80s, my cousin was surprised to find that nobody she met in rural Florida had heard of bagels.

Bialys, I'd understand.

Bialys, I'd understand.

Bought those by mistake.

Once.

Blech.

I am not sure if/when/last I had real tiramisu. The idea sounded so great I promptly made pound cake, Blue Mountain coffee, and an rummy mascarpone whip and called it close enough.

I maid-of-honoured it into an Italian immigrant family and got their dispensation, so I'm good.

Gud made me LOL. It's funny because it's true!

I'm pretty sure General Washington was a handsome young man at that time, too, not the chubby-chin guy we see on our money. But I don't care. The show is delightful, and I was right about John Cho, too. (As in, you don't bring John Cho on your show and kill him off in the first episode. ) Spoiler font to be nice.

Where/when I grew up, in rural 1970s Tennessee, I never knew nothin' about no fancy city food until I went to college, and many things not until I moved to New Jersey. Anything that's part of a "foreign" (i.e., not American Southern) cuisine, never heard of it unless it was lasagna and spaghetti (pizza, I discovered in high school). Our versions of those would have been nigh-unrecognizable to Italians, though. For example, I also had never heard of marinara sauce or ricotta cheese. I doubt that it's much different there today.

There was a restaurant in Fayetteville, North Carolina, that was my introduction to tiramisu, and I haven't tasted anything of equal or better quality since. The place was called Trio's. I'd go there with my then-boyfriend just for that cake. The perfect mild sweetness in the mascarpone cream, they didn't use lady fingers, but whatever baked good it was, it was soaked just right, not too soggy, not too dry, so that it squished with the espresso and brandy.

I tried making it at home once, messed up the recipe so it was basically soup, but it was still delicious. Everything since has been dry and overly sweet. And man, when I went to Italy and thought I'd landed on the jackpot, I discovered, to my unending horror, that it was this mass produced frozen concoction.

I grew up in the multicultural paradise of New Jersey -- at least, if you compare it to some other places.

Every trip to my relatives growing up involved a return trip with the car packed full of Italian bread, two dozen bagels, a cheese pie and these little sesame seed cookies. I used to love those little egg deserts from their cooler, can't remember the name. Lot's of Italian and Irish food growing up. Army days taught me to love Southern cooking (all but the hamhocks and the chitlins). In highschool we had an international potluck night, and I'd always make spanikopita (filo dough, marry me!).

I feel lucky that I had ties to Long Island/New York, or else I'd have been stuck in hum drum NH quisine. We would still have to go to Maine or Massachusetts for decent seafood.

Timelies all!

I'm sorry, Cash. ~ma for the best possible outcome.

Back in the early 80s, my cousin was surprised to find that nobody she met in rural Florida had heard of bagels.

I saw a review of a bagel shop in New Orleans, from sometime in the nineties, where the reviewer explained to the readers what a bagel was. (No idea if it's still there. Bayou Bagelry, behind all the sports fields at Tulane. When I was there, it was the only place in New Orleans to get a decent bagel.)

I don't think it's around anymore, but there is Artz Bagelz! [link]

You guys, I just bought a plane ticket to Paris. I have decided fuckit, maybe I AM made of money.

Damn girl! When are you going to Paris? For how long? For just fun or an event? I wanna go!