Chicken Marsala

At the age of 29 I moved to New York City on a whim. Not to sound dramatic, but the year that followed was truly the best of times and the absolute worst of times. On nights when I felt completely broken and exhausted from the rat race, I would take myself out for a dinner date with a book. Just a few blocks from my apartment was a cozy, hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant that quickly became a favorite. With flickering candles, cheap carafes of house chianti, and a menu featuring unpretentious Italian American classics, dinner there was like a delicious hug. Among their specialties was Chicke...