Guilt, Wine, Sweets, Dining Al Aperto, Family Day, and Waffles

I tried to sleep in, but the church bells that we learned were silenced for Lent were actually broken, and not repaired until Father Pino returned from Australia. They operated in full force this morning. But I feel surprisingly good.

Last night, as we were going to Vincenzo’s car, we saw Alessandro—only the second time we’ve run into him since our return. “Chi è?” I joked (Who is it?) when he greeted us on the street. We were in a hurry to leave, so I asked, “Ci vediamo domani?”— I’ll see you tomorrow?, thinking it’d be our usual Sunday lunch as Mariella’s. She looked a little taken aback, asking if Alessandro would be available. He’s been at his mother-in-law’s on the other Sundays we’ve been here. And we were getting back very late after the show tonight; she may have prepped for the next day’s exhaustion. I hoped I hadn’t forced her hand on a big lunch when perhaps this angelic woman would’ve finally had a day off!

Naturally, I decided it best to ply them with wine, and bring mignon, the small pastries, for Mariella’s sweet tooth.

I picked up two bottles of the Terre Siciliane Perricone, an “antique” grape whose vine was somewhat recently rediscovered. It is excellent, and gets the nod of approval from sommelier Giuseppe. Mariella, for only the second time I’ve witnessed, had a couple of glasses during lunch.

As it turns out, I brought mignon from Stissi, Lilliana brought some from Catania, and Giuseppe picked up Bar Colombo’s assortment. Alessandro and Maria Teresa brought a Colomba cake—pistachio and chocolate. We were covered!

The day was glorious. Lilliana forgot about setting the clock ahead, so ran a bit late. We all sat on the terrace to wait for them, and talked about many things; grottoes, music, solar panels (blue vs black), geothermal heat, the Nebrodi, San Fratello, and food. I’m still impressed with Nonno’s sharp grasp and good knowledge on many things (sexist and communist comments aside). Giuseppe arrived just before we ate, so politics were not brought up. The table was set out here so we could enjoy the weather.

We had a lunch of pasta with ragù, followed by  sausage, a polpettone (a sort of rolled meatloaf, with prosciutto and pistachio), spinach frittata, roasted potatoes, and salad. And the wine. Then a fruit course of blood oranges. Lastly, the above-mentioned desserts, and grappa. 

The older kids went in to watch a movie, while the younger kids ran around outside. Ettore and Tea kept going to the bench to sit. Ettore was proud of his dinosaur slippers.

Joe was entertaining Matteo, and got him in on a couple of pictures.

After a time, Joe went upstairs to rest. Cettina, Giuseppe’s mom, arrived at Elena & Giuseppe’s house, and waved down to us from the balcony. She joined us on the terrace for a caffe. I noted that she’s lost a lot of weight! I didn’t think she was heavy before, but she asked me if she looks better. I said, you look great, but you’re beautiful in any size. Elena gave a small nod.

While the men were off dozing, we women hung out to talk and watch the kids. Lilliana asked if I remember the days of little kids. I said I’ll never forget them. And somehow, busy as life was then, I got so much more accomplished. I think the kids kept me on a schedule.

As the kids played, Ettore got up to get a chocolate-filled sfogliatelle, and started feeding it to Matteo. I said to ask Mommy about that! Then Tea wanted one. Maria Teresa handed her a mini cannolo. She took a bite, saying “non mi piace,” I don’t like it. She reached into the dessert box and plucked out a babà (a rum-soaked cake). Maria Teresa’s eyebrows shot up, saying it has liquor! Tea was a solid bite into it; I asked, “Ti piace?” —You like it? She nodded, “Buona,” and finished it off.

Everyone moved inside. Ettore and I put away the few toys on the floor, when Rachi came up and said, in English, “ok, Karen, please go now to the kitchen. We do waffles.”

My stomach was still bursting from the lunch we just finished.

“Waffles?,” I said, dumbly, thinking and hoping it was some sort of card game.

A nod. “Waffles,” swirling her hand around, as if on a plate.

Lilliana walked in, asking if we don’t have waffles? I asked, do I understand this correctly; we’re talking about the breakfast things to eat that have many little square pockets in them? And I’m still full from lunch?

This family is always eating, she waved off.

Indeed, they were making waffles.

At one point, Lilliana left and returned, throwing her hands up, and saying in English as she walked, “Why aren’t all of you speaking English! We ALL need to learn!!”

Lilliana’s friend wants to hire me for two mornings a week, to have conversations via WhatsApp or FaceTime, and Elena is still working on me starting up a school here. Sometimes I get things right, I guess!

I came upstairs around 7:30, passing on eating the waffles, but enjoyed watching the process. I got in a call to Nikos, who was biking and will call later, sent a text to John about a call, and talked with Maria. They’re all so busy. Maria talked about burnout, which I remember all too well from my 20s, but I promised her, that’s the foundation you’re digging. The best is yet to come.

I loved my 30s, 40s, 50s… and each decade gets better. This one has been superb, despite Covid, setbacks, and tragedies. There is so much yet to be grateful for.