'My beautiful little bomba.'

I’m mastering essential Italian words. Such as bomba or bomboloni.  That’s Italian for jelly or crème-filled doughnut. Used to be that I had to point to a bomba. And hold up two fingers. Or maybe three or four. Depending on my ravenous appetite.  When I travel in Italy, I frequent the pasticceria. Yes, the bakeries. To sample the local specialties. Other names for doughnuts include ciambelle, krapfen, zippoli, zeppole. My vocabulary of pastries exceeds that of my Italian true love. And she’s a native.  Funny, isn’t it? I could teach her Italian.  Words she never heard of before. The other day in  the city of Matera, I purchased what looked like scones.  Two of ‘em.  Big. With chocolate chips and fruit. Oh, so tasty. I had to go out of my way to return the next day. For two more. I have yet to determine what they are called. I just appealed to  my true love , ‘Get me two of those, please.’ She did. Little wonder that she’s my true love. I affectionately call her 'my beautiful little bomba.' –Jim Broede