The Italian dinners we had every Sunday when I was a boy were feasts fit for a king. There 【小题1】(be)loaves of Italian bread ready to be eaten. They were great with butter and even 【小题2】(good)when you dipped them in the sauce(调味汁). My grandma,【小题3】 we called“Nanny”,would always bake them a day ahead so they would be ready. I remember watching her hands make the dough(面团). I would often ask to help only because I wanted to have 【小题4】 bite of the dough before she placed it in the pan to bake.
One day I 【小题5】(foolish)asked Nanny why she didn't just buy bread at the store 【小题6】(save)time. “Because it is not as good,”she said in 【小题7】(she)thick Italian accent. Then she laughed,smiled,and gave me a piece of bread to eat.
Nanny was right. Today I buy my bread at the store and it isn't as good. It is factory-made and lacks all the taste,【小题8】(warm),and love that Nanny put into hers. Store-bought happiness is a sad substitute for homemade joy. If you want lasting love,permanent peace,and 【小题9】(end)joy,then you will have to bake them 【小题10】your own.