Finally Home

Kaelia

Three months later, I’m in the kitchen at four in the afternoon, flour everywhere, on my hands, on the counter, probably in my hair. I’d pulled my hair back, but it wasn’t doing much good. I’m just trying to keep my mind on the timing.

The osso buco’s been braising for hours, the risotto alla milanese needs babysitting, and the scent of fresh focaccia, rosemary, olive oil, fills the house.