This was a tough week, but you guys came through like CHAMPS. Here’s this week highlight:
Week after week, @rossdibi has delivered her FFF in both Italian and English! Here’s her weekly assignment, a clever and personal riff on Mrs Dalloway.
E l'unica cosa che riesco a chiedermi è "Perché Mrs Dalloway sta bevendo del Tokay?"
Tutti i vini nascono dalla vite e non dal pompelmo sebbene (in inglese) le parole siano simili. Non importa cosa servi col vino. Però ricorda che alcuni sono migliori, sebbene sia difficile trovare quello giusto per i carciofi o le costolette. Ma al party di Mrs Dalloway non ci stanno, le costolette, sono aspic col pollo o del salmone.
E' persino un Tokay Imperiale quello servito per dire "Che piacere vederti" a tutti, uno per volta.
Così è scritto. Mi fido di Virginia anche se non ho mai visto Clarissa deliziata da un pezzo di cioccolata bianca.
E' la mezza età, secondo Peter Walsh. O la mediocrità, lui suppone ed io pure.
Sono fedele al Tocai - con la c- e alla sua terra, il Collio in Friuli - come puoi vedere. Sì, lo puoi chiamare Friulano. Sempre sincero e senza ambizioni imperiali.
Mrs Dalloway, pensa al Friulano sotto questo cielo.
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Ok guys! This week, the #FoodFictionFriday assignment was to write a story with the mystery basket ingredients: grapefruit, baby back ribs, and white chocolate. Here’s my story for the week: ✏️ He licked the rib clean and then placed it between us. “This’ll work, right?” Misty and I locked eyes. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I was thinking about the curvature of the bone. Would it spin evenly like a top? Or would it wobble and tip over, like a tire off a junkyard car? I guess it didn’t matter. It would stop at someone either way. He wanted us to think that this was an impromptu decision, like hey, let’s use this random thing for this random game. But we all knew what was gonna happen tonight, even if we didn’t expect a friggin’ bone. There were two of them, and two of us. Just Misty and me. Jared spun the bone so fast it lifted off the floor like a helicopter, right onto Misty’s lap. I probably could’ve made a case that it was actually pointing to me, but the whole thing was nestled between her thighs and Jared was already crawling towards Misty and suddenly me and the other boy were nothing, just the other discarded bones on our paper plates. The whole time they kissed I stared at the food Jared’s mom left out for us: sticky glazed ribs, grapefruit wedges, and white chocolate bonbons, all wrong wrong wrong. I couldn’t think of a more vile meal in the history of mankind. But when their lips released with a sickening wet pop, I ate a bonbon, then chased it with the grapefruit. A casual, indifferent act, or so I hoped it’d come off. It tasted bitter and then sweet and then way too sweet, a bracing pucker of bad. It took me three full seconds to stomach it, but eventually everything settled. By the time Misty looked at me, head slung low and hands wrenched, I came to appreciate the awfulness and considered it a type of medicine. ✏️ Ok your turn! Post your story with #FoodFictionFriday tomorrow and tag me. You can read past entries by following the hashtag or visiting my FFF story highlights. 🙌 🙌
And here’s mine!
Whew, that’s one whole month of Food Fiction Friday. I love our writing community and have been so inspired by your hard work and inventive takes.