Leave the gun...

On a recent trip to Boston, Massachusetts I found myself at North Station with about an hour to kill. So, in usual fashion, I said to myself, "I'll walk that direction." As it happens, I had unwittingly put myself on the way to the middle of the North End - the Italian neighborhood. Also unbeknownst to me, it was the evening of the Feast of Saint Joseph, which, of course, was as good a reason as any for the neighborhood to have a big festival. Cue me, stumbling onto a street decorated with all sorts of banners and food and amusement stalls of all sorts. It was still early and things were just getting started, but there were already plumes of steam from the giant pasta cookers and smoke from the grills and flattops with meats and peppers and sausages. And on one corner there was a much quiter stand with a pyramid of cannoli shells piled on a table. I'd resisted the other stalls because I was going to be eating dinner soon, but how could I possibly resist getting a cannoli on the street in the North End? Three fillings were on offer: chocolate, vanilla, and sweet ricotta with chocolate chips - no contest, especially when the maker's favorite was also mine - the ricotta. The shell was crispy yet solid, not a stiff, cardboard-like tube that I've had out of bakery refrigerator cases before. And the filling was dense and cheesy, but also sweet and a little floral and with the tartness of the bittersweet chocolate chips. Glorious.

My advice: take the cannoli.