The Unsung Songstress of Little Italy
Debra Ente personifies Little Italy’s charm, kitsch, and ‘authentic inauthenticity’
Deserts and Brown Paper Bags
Compound Butter - The Comfort Issue
“Comfort to me is the smell of brown paper grocery bags. Growing up, Sunday was when we did our grocery shop. I’d hurl myself into my dad's old red car and we’d speed off to the store. While he scoured the aisles for pearled couscous and curry paste, I’d steal artichokes from the olive bar and sneak slices of provolone from the ladies at the deli counter. On our ride home, like clockwork, he’d flick on the radio to 91.7, WICB for Breakfast with the Beatles. I’d close my eyes and, to the sound of tight harmonies and twangy guitar, inhale until my lungs nearly popped. The brown paper bags sitting in the back seat became aromatic as they soaked in the sun. The paper bloomed. It smelled like cookies, like crackers, like cloves and chocolate, and burnt toast—I wanted to eat it.
”
For The Culinistas Zine: The Parchment Paper
