Rosalia's Bittersweet Pastry Shop Read Online Free PDF

Sorella Agata, and while the nun had exhibited meekness earlier, Claudia sensed she would not tolerate aggressive or disrespectful behavior. So all Claudia said for the moment was, “ Grazie mille. ”
    Sorella Agata turned to leave, but Claudia stopped her.
    â€œOh, Sister?”
    Sorella Agata paused, looking over her shoulder. “ Si, Signorina Lombardo?” She seemed in a hurry to leave.
    Claudia paused for a moment. “I’m sorry if I offended you with my pertness and impatience. I can imagine how frustrating it must be to always have everyone ask you about that cake, but you can understand their curiosity?”
    â€œThat is all right. No need for you to apologize. I was not offended, and I am sorry if I gave you that impression. The cassata is my most popular pastry at the shop, and its success has helped to make the business a prosperous one. I am very grateful for that. But I take pride in all of our baking. I have a . . . how do you Americans say something that is sour and sweet? I know there is a word for it.”
    â€œBittersweet?”
    â€œ Si, bittersweet. I have a bittersweet relationship with the cake. But that is another story. The truth is, Signorina Lombardo—”
    â€œPlease, call me Claudia, Sister.”
    â€œVery well, as you wish. The truth is, Claudia, there is no secret ingredient. I’m sorry to disappoint you as I have no doubt disappointed the chefs who traveled here from as far as even Paris and Vienna to discover what sets my cassata apart from any other that has been made.”
    â€œA few of the chefs have claimed you do not want to reveal your secret, which I wouldn’t blame you for, since it is after all your trademark dessert.”
    Sorella Agata vehemently shook her head. “I tell you, there is no secret ingredient. I don’t like swearing to God, but if I were one who swore, I would take that oath. Maybe it is the ingredients we have here in Sicily?” Sorella Agata shrugged her shoulders before continuing. “You can watch me make the cake, and I will show you my recipe, which is in a recipe book that all of my workers use. I keep it in the kitchen. I have no secrets from anyone.”
    â€œForgive me once again, Sister, if I am being rude, but if that is true, why did you stop talking about the cake once you noticed the workers in the kitchen were listening to our conversation?”
    â€œI refuse to give in to this ridiculous speculation, and it has caused my workers to question me in the past. That is not what we are about here at the Convento di Santa Lucia del Mela. I won’t have it. I have told them what I am telling you now. That is the end of the discussion. They should be focused on producing the finest pastries and serving our village, not on silly gossip created by a bunch of pompous, jealous chefs!”
    Sorella Agata’s face was flaming beet red now. She walked over to the window and opened it. Taking a few deep breaths, she closed her eyes.
    â€œI’m sorry, Sister. I did not mean to upset you. As a food writer and interviewer, I have an inquisitive mind. Of course, I want this book to be special and I—”
    â€œYou thought the secret ingredient would be the magic to ensuring the success of your book?”
    â€œOur book, Sister. This book will be your book as much as it is mine, and your name will appear as the coauthor.”
    â€œThat won’t be necessary, Claudia.”
    â€œBut you are contributing to the book. These are your pastries I will be writing about, and it is your story that will appear on the pages. After trying the Virgin’s Breasts, I can tell you are an extraordinary pastry chef and have a special gift. Why won’t you take the credit you deserve?”
    â€œYou forget, Claudia, I am a nun, and as such, the only credit I allow myself is that I am doing God’s work and serving Him as well as the people I strive to help. That is enough for me. I