
Our children grow up frittata fast. They start out little bitty eggs, get whipped up into a froth (by our mad parenting skills, no doubt), and then poured into a pan... ready for the oven (a.k.a. the world). We turn around for ten minutes, and when our gaze next falls upon them, they are a ... frittata... nothing like the little round egg we started out with. Our hearts break a little (partly because we're proud of how far they've come, and partly because we'll always miss the baby they once … [Read more...]
























