On Christmas Eve, by the time the rest of our family group had arrived in the borrowed house in the village of Sommocolonia in the Gargagnana, high in the mountains of Tuscany, the fire was blazing, the candles lit, the wine uncorked, the iron-clad stove puffing away in the hallway, and the larder was crammed with the best that the market in Castelnuovo could yield.
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