Among many, many other things at the
estimable Spumoni Gardens tonight, I
had what was probably the first biscuit
tortoni I'd eaten since I was six years old,
and I've got to say: I didn't really see the point.
Is there a platonic ideal of the sweet I just
haven't seen yet? Or is biscuit tortoni, like charlotte russe, an item palatable only in hindsight? I
need to know.
P.S.: The spumoni was splendid.
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