I never exaggerate. Never ever ever.
Whitey made me a stromboli to end all strombolis. It had a flaky crust, with a slightly chewy dough inside, packed with all kinds of Italian goodness. The fresh basil made it oh-that-much-better, and I almost had tears in my eyes, telling him that it was the best one he had ever made.
Food does that to me.
It was too big to eat the entire thing. I took a photo with my hand next to it to give you a better idea of its size. I wish I had taken a photo of it after I sliced it open, but I was too busy shoving it in my face.
Yes, that’s me, fondling my stromboli.