On the seventh day, could she please rest?

I swear to Jeremiah Tower, the hometown paper must be leasing its water fountains out to the Saint Alice Kool-Aid Co. The latest to drink deeply of the hubris flavor casually informs readers around world that the Cloched Crusader has humbled the Big O into hiring his own longtime chef. Unfortunately, the rest of this paean to the latest “success” makes clear how ugly Americans abroad can be. Why wouldn’t the Academy in Rome cook the way the Romans do before this divine intervention? Did they really need to import “the mother of American cooking” to persuade the kitchen to buy local, cook seasonally? And if this the talk of Rome, I have a bridge on the Tiber to sell Sunday Styles.