It was my birthday on the weekend and we had to celebrate, of course. This is when I love being in Italy. They make such good things for celebrating. It’s the perfect time for drinking and eating things we can’t have every day like expensive wine and cake. I made a cake because James, as wonderful as he is in all other ways, is useless at cake baking. We ate it before the camera ever came near it. But we do have the empty bottle from the celebratory bubbly. It’s a Pinot Noir from Lombardy near where my other favourite, Franciacorta, comes from, and has been made by the Boatti family since the 19th century. But, as far as I know, you have to come to Italy to drink it. Good. It makes it more special when you can drink it. (And, possibly, leaves more for me in Italy.)
Celebration
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