Until recently, I never understood some people’s fascination with biscotti. My parents loved them. I did not. To me, they were long, thick, rock-hard bricks with a peculiar licorice taste, obnoxiously trying to pass themselves off as cookies. They didn’t fool me, though. Whatever they were, I was certain that they were not any kind of cookies I was interested in.
When I was a kid, every Sunday dinner was finished off with a pot of espresso and a plate of those obnoxious biscotti – always Stella d’Oro brand. Every self-respecting Italian housewife kept a stash of Stella d’Oro cookies in her pantry, including my mother and my nonna. You know, in case anyone happened to stop by. God forbid someone should stop by for coffee and there were no cookies or cake to serve with it! Tongues would wag for weeks!
As they sipped their espresso, the adults would dunk the biscotti into the thick, dark liquid and eat them. Gah! The only thing worse than biting into one of those jaw-breaking biscotti, was biting into one turned to mush by strong black coffee. To this day, the thought of it makes me cringe. read more >>