Humans, greetings!
I’ve been feeling a little nostalgic lately, and I remembered a tradition we used to do around the holidays when Lil’ Osito was young.
Indulge me for a minute…
I wake before dawn, as I always do on Cow by Bear dinner party days.
The November air in San Diego is crisp for once—almost enough to remind me of the mountain mornings back in Pettorano sul Gizio, that tiny Italian town where humans and bears share the same streets the way old friends share secrets.
I learned a lot during my time in Italy: how to cook with reverence, how to serve with flair, and—most importantly—how to prepare an Italian Futurist-style dinner without a single strand of pasta.
But today isn’t about Futurism.
Today is about tradition.
Today is my Feast of Seven Fishes.
I pad into the kitchen, claws clicking softly on the tile, and the lights glow warm against the copper pots.
Osa is already there, rolling lemon leaves between her paws to release their fragrance.
Lil’ Osito sits on the counter wearing his tiny embroidered apron, kicking his feet and stirring a bowl of aioli with dramatic seriousness.
“Papa,” he declares, “the uni crema is perfect.”
I taste it.
It is, of course, far too salty.
But Lil’ Osito beams at me with that pride only a young bear-chef-in-