I never liked ricotta when I was younger. I did not like it on my pasta and certainly never ate it by itself. Although I grew up in Catania, I refused to have traditional cannoli, only eating the chocolate ones. I thought cassate were far too complex and only something adults liked–probably because my uncle used to devour them during family gatherings and would never leave any for the rest of us.

I can’t remember when I actually began to pay any real attention to ricotta, but I know something changed when I moved to another country. Actually, it wasn’t moving, but returning home. After being gone for a year, I felt like a tourist exploring a new culture. I visited places as if I had never seen them, said yes to everything, tried food as if I had never tasted it.