No offense to Barbara or Neil, but you can skip the real flowers. Bring me gelato shaped into rose petals and we’ll talk.
Cold, sweet decadence. One taste and you’re making the kind of sounds usually reserved for the bedroom. It’s that good.
If you see one of these winged cupids flying from a store front awning, count yourself blessed, and act accordingly.
If, like mine, your part of the world exists in the desert of Amorino deprivation, get on a plane, a train, a mule. Whatever it takes because Amorino artisanal gelato isn’t a dessert, it’s an experience.
I’d like to tell you that on a recent trip to New York, I spent all my time traipsing through places like the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and the Guggenheim, but I’d be lying.
I spent an obscene amount of time on the Upper West Side, making pilgrimages to Amorino for gelato and to Levain Bakery for cookies—but that’s another story 🙂