The quiet ones from the mountains above the Adriatic, they eat polenta, and lamb, herd sheep and drink wine. Nothing corners them, yet they stay to themselves. Crossing the Apennine countryside you may notice pasta draped as curtains but not for long. It only takes two hours to dry and into the pot it goes, next to the simmering sauce. The Abruzzi wave as you pass their house, and if you’re traveling slow enough you may be invited for a bite to eat. But don’t believe that’s a weakness; they’re as sturdy as can be and if you cross them, you’re as dead as a doornail.
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