How can I still be embarrassed by something that happened when I was 15 years old? Recently the Italian word for “laundry bleach” appeared in the captions on a cooking show, where a pleasant old lady was reminiscing about growing up in Little Italy and how the biancolino (pronounced bee-un-go-LEEN) man would come to your house with his gallon bottles. I remembered being sent to Cucinotta’s grocery store by my German-English mother to ask for a bottle of “by-anka-leena”, her phonetic pronunciation of the label on the bottle, then eventually having to point to one, and Dolores laughing and laughing and showing her white teeth.