Torrone is my all-time favorite candy. It's an Italian nougat, made from honey and toasted almonds, pressed between two whisper-thin rice paper wafers. There's nothing better. How cute of La Florentine Torrone to come enclosed in these small decorative boxes, printed with portraits of Italian nobility. At Lotsa Pasta, the Italian grocery down the street, it's a private tradition of mine to buy one from the jar on the counter.
Harold is a fan of the torrone box as well. He lives in a sweet little world where everyone loves him, all strangers are mailmen, and even the most mundane, discarded piece of junk is a treasure, equally delightful and intriguing as any stuffed toy with a squeaker. Despite all the chew-grade tennis balls, shank bones and stuffed animals strewn around our place, his favorites tend to be the forgettable objects fallen from pockets, lost under the bed or tracked in from outside: small candy boxes, bus transfers, the plastic Pepto-Bismol dosage cup, small citrus fruits, yarn, and most recently, those little shot glasses made of ice (we gave him that one, sans alcohol, of course.)