CROSTINI, AN ODE

Today that I wondered if it was too late for me to have a child and name it Crostini (if it was a girl)

Crostino if it were a boy. Or maybe Crostina if it were a girl. Crostini if I couldn’t decide.

Today I walked by the dead possum on the street and said, underneath my breath, “Crostini” – What else could I say? Not “Possum.” Everybody already knows that.

Today I wondered if I would ever be brave enough to walk from the White Truffles of Alba all the way to Crostini, Italy.

I can’t decide if I want to do that. Crostini.

Today I admired the stealth, sleek, outlaw timbres of the Stratocaster Guitar. It’s sounds like a Crostini that has been lit on fire by someone on Death Row.

Today I thought that if I ever visited Russia, would I be able to find Krostinis in the local Kaffes. In St.Petersburg, perhaps, but it is doubtful that I would find them in Moscow.

Did you know that Woodrow Wilson’s dog was named Crostini? Speaking of strokes,

No Tuscan meal would ever be complete without a crostini, a rinse of Grappa, and someone having a heart attack afterwards

I remember that the bubble gum that you used to get in Bazooka Joe Bubble Gum was shaped just like a minature Crostini that was pink and sweet and nothing like Crostini

I remember that the first time I saw the Shroud of Turin it made me really hungry because it looked like a Crostini, although I hadn’t had a Crostini yet.

I think that the Crostini is something that you always know, even before you do know it.

My favorite part of ‘Crostini’ has to be the ‘tini’ part

Tuscan Kale, Ricotta Salata, Sweet and Hot Pickled Peppers Rapini, Sweet Italian Sausage, Roasted Garlic, Asiago Fresca. It’s a no brainer: Crostini Rules!

I have a friend who always says: Kurt Cobain rules!

Which is stupid; Kurt Cobain doesn’t rule.

My favorite part of ‘tini’ is, I think, ‘ini’