Morning Crepes, Afternoon Seppia, Evening Gelato
A little surprise greeted me in the apartment this morning: Crepes! Rachi had prepared them before school, and left a plate for me on the coffee table.
At first, I thought they were Elena's flat pancakes, so I went down to thank her. The boys were getting ready for school. Matteo made pretend caffe, for both Mariella and me. On the way out, Mariella told me to join them for lunch today; she's preparing pasta seppia.
Back upstairs, I ate my crepes with sugar and my own coffee, "sparing" me a trip to Artigiana. But I'm promising myself a caffe and cornetto there tomorrow, along with a walk afterwards to the Wednesday open-air market on via Europa.
I cleaned up the kitchen, did a quick hand washing of socks and delicates, and hung them to dry. Now off to the "Chinese Store," as everyone calls it, to get a few affordable diversions for the kids. As I walked around the store a bit, I thought I heard, "Kahrren... Kahrren?" I turned around to see Maria Teresa and her mom, Pina. They were mouths agape, hearing that I walked there and then planned to walk back, and kept offering me a ride, but I said Mariella invited me for lunch, and they both immediately understood that meant burning calories ahead of time was a good idea.
A wine guy was at Deco, and I asked for a good companion for pasta seppia. A Grillo was suggested, and I am partial to the Cantina Firriato producer, so I grabbed one of those, along with Baci dark chocolates for Mariella, taralli casarecce, and some braesola I spied the other day. I noticed a few new places along viale dei Fiori, most interesting, a place called Red Fish.
I put my other things away, then brought the wine and chocolate down to Mariella's, temporarily adding the wine to their freezer. She was ferociously finishing everything coming together with the pasta seppia. Vincenzo came into the kitchen, wearing his dress trousers and a pajama top, saying he changed out of his shirt because of what we're eating for lunch!
As a refresher, Pasta Seppia is sometimes referred to as Squid Ink Pasta, which truly is only correct if the pasta itself has incorporated squid ink into it's making; it's usually a dried pasta, grey in color, and often topped with olive oil, garlic, tomatoes. But Pasta Seppia is regular linguine or spaghetti. It's the "sugo" of actual squid ink that turns it black. Along with big cloves of garlic and generous chunks of squid, briefly cooked in olive oil, the ink needs nothing more than to meet the linguine with a dusting of chili pepper. On this hot day, the dark pasta and crisp cool Grillo (a choice that Vincenzo loved) made a lunch so fabulous, Mariella laughed at my continuing sounds of enjoyment. I wish I could record the taste of the meal the way photos can record the views of one's eyes.
Nonno joined us, eating a different lunch of pasta and a simple passata, claiming to dislike Pasta Seppia. Vincenzo lovingly grated cheese over Nonno's simple pasta. I asked why he didn't like Pasta Seppia, and Mariella cut in to say that he's never in his life even tried it. Sitting next to me, watching me eat it with such pleasure, he must've asked five times if I really like it, until Mariella yelled, "Ma dai, papa! Si mangia!" Let her eat!
I later learned from Agnese that Nonno calls the sauce merda del mare, which may not need a translation.
During lunch, I mentioned seeing a new place called Red Fish. Vincenzo and Mariella said it's "ottimo". The former fish department guy from Deco opened the place a few months ago, with the concept of a restaurant, but also offering selections to take away. The idea is to serve those whose families are split on the fish/seafood like-dislike spectrum. Or for a household of one or two. Or for those who love fish, but don't want their kitchen to smell of it. Joe and I were wowed by the Deco fish department from the start, with Vincenzo backing up our impressions. I'll probably wait until Joe's here with me, so we can check out Red Fish together. It sounds like our kind of place.
After lunch, I wanted to treat myself to a 20-minute nap, but the kids came up, which was also a treat. Today is hot, so after playing a few rousing periods with the toy hockey set I bought today, I thought it a good idea to walk to Artigiana to get gelato with them. I checked it out with Mariella first, made the kids promise to hold hands and stay close or we'll never go again, and got my purse. We were there in just a few minutes; Agnese commanded the orders from her well-below counter height stance, to my complete exasperation. But she knew exactly what we all wanted. The gelati were beautifully packaged for our walk across the street to the train station piazza.
Ahhh, gelato, you gorgeous thing, you. I love the flavor of my usual pistachio, but the taste of Ettore's strawberry version was pretty delightful.
Using the piazza space to run and run and run, it was like bagging kittens getting the kids to turn home. "Do you want to come here again?" I asked. "Every day," said Ettore. I told them both they then had to prove to me that they can listen, if we're ever to return together, or why should I ever bother? I picked up Ettore for security, and kept Agnese close. On the street home, Mariella pulled up to us in the car, with Rachi and Matteo in back. She thought she'd give us a ride. I learned later that Agnese had dance lessons at 6:15, and Mariella came to swoop us up and save the day. I felt terrible. Rachi explained that Maria Teresa is angry with Agnese for breaking the rule, and not asking before leaving. But, I'm the adult. I should have checked with Maria Teresa. Mea culpa.
Miriam and her mom Fina met us on the street, and we sat on Mariella's breezy patio while the kids played. Fina is deaf but can read lips. She signs, as does Miriam, and I'm picking up bits of another "language". And it's a universal one!
Now I'm getting messages buzzed in from Rachi, as I'm typing this. She is an adorable girl.
I just learned from my sister that my mom's house closing is the day BEFORE I leave here; my brief trip was scheduled around getting back 3 days prior to the original closing date. I have so many feels right now!! But, things happen. I just feel terrible yet again. My sister has to deal with all this herself. I don't even know where to go with this. Changing my flight now is $$$$$$
And I can't understand why the lawnmower isn't working back home. The yard is going to be a mess if the "grass" (it's mostly clover, which will leap into my gardens) isn't cut super soon. That will mean days and days of hard clean up work.
Sometimes it's stressful to go away, knowing there's all that to deal with upon return. I need to put into perspective that these are problems of privilege. But sometimes it gets the better of me. Or, another option, I need to not return, Ell Oh Ell.
Tonight, I'm not especially hungry after the gelato and my big lunch; it's too hot to cook, and starting something at 8 pm seems like a lot tonight, so I'll try to make it an early bedtime. But I say that every night!
I'm having a tortorella and tomato salad, some braesola, and the rest of last night's good bread.
Here are some random photos to sign off with:
The closing is still June 14. Mom can just sign early. The buyer can't sign until June 14. Covid shut down the "everyone get together in one room" type of closing.
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