Sometimes it is a wedding song that makes a marriage so memorable. For my children, it was the cannolis. We are pastry people.
Growing up, my grandmother believed that any argument could be settled once people sat at the table, ate her cannolis, and drank her demi tasse coffee. There was magic in those afternoons. Many a tearful love crisis was solved by sitting and talking and savoring the taste of delicately crunchy shells filled with a mixture of ricotta and heavy cream.
When we all moved to Boston my children split on the best cannolis in the North End — Mike’s or Modern. But when it came time for a wedding, the opinion was universal. Instead of a wedding cake there would be cannolis shipped from Boston to Portland, Maine and layered in a three tier pastry server.