Speaking of Bread (as I am wont to do ), come with me to Roccatederigh, Italy.

 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roccatederighi


I spent a week there with my friend Joe S during a 1991 sabbatical leave.


We were in a old house in the highest part of the old Town.  The house was owned by one Larry H.  who had grown up at St. Stephen's Pittsfield, MA.  (Larry said that the house was on the wrong side of the tracks in Tuscany, and all the better for that!).


J and I parked my rental car in the new town and then climbed up stone  pathways and steps to Larry's home.


 Roccatederighi is/was a dying hill top town ( of which there are many in Italy).

The new town (Victorian?) had a store or two, and a bar or two where the old boys drank Grappa and played Dominoes. 

The old town also had a small store.

J and I would wander down to it each morning  to buy freshly baked bread for breakfast.

And here is the good part. 

We'd return in the evening to get fresh baked bread to eat with dinner.

The very best rural Italian Bread has a half-day shelf life!

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