Nothing I ate today could equal Keats's experience with a nectarine, at least not in the way he describes it. His is a very breast-like fruit:
"Talking of Pleasure, this moment I was writing with one hand, and with the other holding to my Mouth a Nectarine--Good God how fine. It went down, soft pulpy, slushy, oozy--all its delicious embonpoint melted down my throat like a large beautiful Strawberry. I shall certainly breed."
But the Italian wedding cookie and an apricot rugelach from Bella Moto (Beautiful Motion) in Arlington, Massachusetts (916 Mass. Avenue) were delicious, tender and absolutely fresh. The portions were dainty, not like the bloated pastry that overwhelms me. It's so easy to go from delight to disgust, but not at Bella Moto. Before opening the Arlington bakery, the owner Frances Grandinetti was a baker at the Blacksmith House in Harvard Square and at the Four Seasons Hotel in Boston.
Bella Moto windows are poorly lit, which may be why I've never gone in until today. How many other pleasures have I passed up? I'll be stopping by again. Grandenetti handles her dough with bella moto.
