Two Christmas parties in and I am already feeling bloated from the generous spreads offered by each shindig’s wonderful host. The dessert carts are especially problematic to avoid since they are always so darn delicious. And sweet. Oftentimes, super, SUPER sweet, as in fully-covered-with-decadent-sugar-icing-as-the-happy-dentist-looks-on kind of sweet.

Once home, it really makes me crave a balancing flavor that is not quite so honeyed. Thank goodness for the subtle sugariness of Italian biscotti. I tasted my first “real” biscotti as a 20-something living in Manhattan. It was a small, crumbly, oblong-shaped, mildly sweet almond meal cookie brimming with crunchy whole toasted almonds.