grembiule / apron

When my mother gets home, she always does two things: she changes into her home clogs (zoccoli) and puts on her apron. You will never catch her at home wearing shoes or without her apron. As soon as my mother entered my kitchen in the house where my husband and I were about to get married, in Orinda, California, she asked me where my apron was. The direct consequence of growing up with a constant apron-wearing mother was that I had mixed feelings about aprons and did not own one. I did not explain to my mother the cause, only the... Read more →