This is what my daughter covets. We call it "Pizza di Grane." Others call it "Pastiera di Grano" - probably more correct - my grandmother spoke an odd dialect. My daughter is used to hiding sweets. She has a brother that forages and will demolish all treats in one evening. When he's home for the weekend, her treats are hidden in her room - not my favorite spot for them. He seeks - but he may not search her closet.
Her father (my husband) will also demolish treats - but he is not a good seeker. If you put something behind the milk - it is safe. He will never move the milk. You just don't want anything in plain sight.
But the Pizza di Grane is for the family - and I am as guilty as any of cutting sliver after sliver (really - just "credit-card" slices) until half the pie is gone. There are many recipes for this - my mother's is a tad on the sweet side. My Aunt Fay's was a bit more wheat-like. It doesn't matter - it only comes once a year and we enjoy it. By the time the photo was taken - most of it had been demolished. (Pies were not made to be cut into credit-card slivers.)
