Birthdays, Clams, and a Pizza Party
Happy Birthday, Roma! You’re older, so you get top billing. And happy birthday to Joe’s mini-him — his daughter, Laura!
Still in my PJs and robe, I went to the stairwell.
“Giuseppe is here with the clams for you,” she said, Matteo on her hip.
Dear Lord; I forgot the fish monger was coming today. I grabbed my money and went to the front door. Mariella was already picking out some clams. She looked at me, in my robe and pjs, with a hint of “you couldn’t do better?”, but because she’s Mariella, it was fleeting.
Giuseppe showed me a yellow netted bag. Mariella smiled and said, “Cannolicchi. Lui ha comprato per te,” she explained that Giuseppe the fish guy bought the cannolicchi (razor clams) for me in Catania. Nobody asks for them at their home, he said, so they’re never on his truck; he made a special trip to ‘a guy he knows’. I told him he’s an angel. Mariella bought a bunch of vongole verace, the delicious meaty ‘regular’ clams.
I quickly showered and dressed, and we ran to get supper go-withs, such as bread and salad, but not before stopping for caffe and a cornetto at Bar Colombo.
When we returned, I brought half the batch of razor clams to Mariella. There were far too many for just the two of us. She was cooking the vongole, which smelled heavenly. She invited us to lunch.
We brought a Firriato white wine from the Adrano enoteca. Mariella started us with the razor clams I dropped off—cooked briefly in white wine, sprinkled with olive oil and garlic-infused mollica crumbs, and a dusting of parsley. Wow. She had never cooked razor clams. I told her she’s a magician. Vincenzo laughed, saying Let me show you her magic trick, and grabbed Mariella’s phone, where Mr. Internet still displayed the recipe.
The linguine and clams (macchiato, as I prefer it—with tomatoes) just about knocked Joe’s socks off. It is his favorite dish, and we’d be hard pressed to remember a better preparation than Mariella’s. We finished with blood oranges for dessert. At the end of lunch, Elena, Giuseppe, and kids arrived, saying tonight we’ll have pizza (usually pizza is on Saturdays). With this weekend’s crazy schedule, they wanted to get most everyone together tonight, before we’re gone. Lilliana and family won’t come until tomorrow, and we’ll have a gelato date with them! As we were leaving, Maria Teresa popped in, talking nonstop; I think Alessandro was on his moto today in Catania. He’s fine, but this happened in the city:
Vincenzo invited us to San Biagio Platani with them, to see the streets arched over with bread art. There’s an itinerary they’re doing with their friends for several days, but we will go Sunday and Monday, then return. We fly out from Catania on Tuesday. It should be pretty cool to see this unusual art form.
After lunch, we hung out at the apartment. I did some of the pre-departure scrub down of the place, since we’ll now be gone for the couple of days prior to leaving.
Ettore did not come to play today; he stayed with Rodi and Matteo, and close to Elena. I miss him, but I also understand. Sometimes it’s hard being a three-year-old, and a smart one at that. He misses his mom, and Rodi’s not deaf.
I noticed the late hour as I was dumping out the scrubbing water. Ugh; we had raw razor clams left, which really need to be cooked while they’re still alive. I quickly tried to finish the tidy up, put things away, then make the clams as Mariella showed me. And Haste Makes Waste, because I overcooked them, trying to do too many things, and being deaf I couldn’t listen for the usual cooking cues. Well damn. On the bright side, we had such an incredible lunch, I feel I got my money’s worth out of the clams.
Elena texted they’re waiting for us. We flew down to Mariella’s. Fina, Giovanna, Alessandro’s family, everyone (but Lili & family) were there. We laughed and talked, and then the pizza came, and we all laughed and talked some more. Vincenzo told the story of visiting the red light district in Amsterdam, sending Nonno a couple of photos, to which Nonno said, those are nice couches.
Ettore made up for the last couple of days ignoring me, by snuggling into my arms for quite some time tonight. He’s excited about staying at my house. He was explaining a Smurf movie. I looked over at the tv. “Is that Neal Patrick Harris?!”
Agnese was a limp little rag doll on the sofa, flushed with fever. First thought: Poor little peanut. Second thought: I’m going to catch this bug too.
Vincenzo broke out the very expensive Barolo grappa *I* sprung for as a gift to him, but he gave Joe total credit for it. Aaaaaggghhhhh!!! Soooo maddening!
And now I’m finishing writing past 1:00 am; I want to get moving early tomorrow, to go on a couple of hikes. I’d better sleep fast!
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