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Everything had been going so well. The dough: chilled in the fridge for an hour. The fillings: ready to be placed on the little circles of dough I would cut out. The wine: next to my mixing bowl, because I needed liquid courage. I cut a third of the dough from the bowl, laid it out on my floured surface and went to town with the rolling pin. And … the dough started to stick to the pin.

