In the letter, Capote writes that his stomach "has finally revolted against Italian food."
Is this possible? I think I could eat Italian for a whole year straight without annoying either my stomach or my taste buds. Osso bucco. Risotto. Tiramisu. Spaghetti bolognese. Brunello di Montalcino. Panna cotta. Prosciutto with melon. Don't those words qualify as verbal foreplay?