So you know fruit cakes. Those boney dry, inedible bricks, the only food that survives a nuclear winter. I cannot bring myself to eat a bite of one. No way.
And then I end up in a small trattoria in Milan, they take fruit cake, cream, some booze, more cream and ice cream - and then some magic happens when they put it all together.
It's beautiful. It's delicious. It causes flavor explosions in my mouth. It's Meneghina.
Generalistic and moderated instance.