Biscotto

My grandmother lived with my youngest uncle. Every Christmas, Easter, and birthday, she traveled to each of her children’s homes. When she stayed with us for a few days, our kitchen smelled like a little slice of Palermo. Her biscotto recipe came straight from her own grandmother and was never written down. She measured a pinch of salt by feel, a splash of vanilla by sight, and stirred in roasted almonds until the dough was just right.

After she passed away, I blended tradition with a touch of innovation. I added my own twist—a light sprinkle of sea salt before the second bake—to make the almond flavor sing. Today, every biscotto we bake honors my grandmother’s traditions and the joy she shared around the family table.