. A blogumn by Roya Hamadani I’ve spent the last three days visiting family in Boston, sharing shrimp toast and candy apples and barbecued ribs.  For gastronomic adventuring I can think of no better partner than my sister.  One taste and she can accurately predict my reaction – “You won’t like this cannoli, it’s got anise in the cream” – and my visits with her consist of epic culinary tours of all her favorite haunts and newest discoveries.  The highlight of this go-around had to be the mob Italian restaurant that served her a mounded platter of seafood and linguini in spicy red sauce that would have fed a family of five.  As my sister peered over the tower of mussel shells and squid rings before her, I thought, “There’s no place I’d rather be than right here, right now.” At breakfast yesterday morning my sister’s brother in law asked for his left over cereal milk to be used in his coffee, launching us all on an extended fantasy in which “Uncle Drew’s Own Cereal Milk” outsold every creamer on the market.  According to our collective vision the logo pictures a bespectacled Drew smiling in his pajamas, milk dripping off his stubble, with a tagline that reads, “Made only with organic milk, natural sweeteners, and Drew’s own spit.”  It all ends in scandal after the emergence of a video showing Chinese factory workers chewing lactate by the handful and eating from huge vats of cereal which pour off the milky dregs into Drew’s bottles. Food love is a special love.  It is exponentially increased when you eat in the company of those you adore.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a frozen waffle or a chocolate Florentine, just find somebody you love and share a...