
Hello Lunch!
As I ponder your mozzarella goodness I am transported my childhood on Easter Island, where my parents had a modest mozzarella farm. Growing up digging in the dirt for the succulent white pearls that only bloom there during late spring were the happiest days of my life. I am getting misty as I write.
The bed of olive oil floating on balsamic vinegar is a gift from Riot Kitty who rescued me from the island hovel made of driftwood and cut marble.