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Mort Abroad
Mort in Cavtat, Croatia




Excerpt from Striking Through the Masks

We visited a half-dozen relatives’ houses in different communities on that first trip, but the reception, as it would be in the future, was always the same: tearful and happy, the people ushered us onto a patio or into the house where everything was scrubbed clean and settled us at a dining room
table where a plate of goat’s cheese and a platter of proscuitto sitting next to a bottle of clear grappa and a saucer of dried figs rimmed with pungent bay leaves awaited us. All were grown on the farm, and the welcome and snacks
never varied. Only the grappa, distinctively flavored with a variety of grasses and herbs by each family, was different.

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