Venerdì Nero
While sipping our morning coffee and nursing a food hangover, the door quietly opened and in walked a just-woke-up Matteo. He happily snuggled into our morning, asking for chocolate, as always. What a delightful way to start the day! We're 100% sure nobody knew he was up here.
Eventually, Elena arrived to claim him, telling us Ciro and Luisa will be here in one hour. Just enough time to shower and get dressed.
They are a darling couple from Avellino, near Napoli. I like and enjoy them both, and Ciro especially warms my heart. He's elegant and expressive, all together. Every time I've seen him, he's in a jacket and tie. He had funeral parlors in Campania before retirement, and now he and Luisa have invested in a guest house (small hotel) in the center of Florence. The group of friends here are making a trip to see it next week. They invited us to join them, but we're parting for Calabria on Monday.
We had caffè, biscotti di morti (lemon, and chocolate), leftover "boobs," and Elena asked me to bring down some pumpkin pie. Ciro explained that mozzarella di Campania also had the nickname "boobs". I nodded, laughing, adding that the twists on top made the nipples. Quite seriously, Luisa agreed. Mozzarella is serious business in the Naples province. It was a nice, slow ease into another day of not moving and lots of eating.
Elena, Luisa, and I made a trip to Lidl to pick up birthday things for Ettore's party tomorrow. I understood immediately that Luisa is a take-charge kinda gal.
Joe and I spent a. brief time upstairs; I finished clean up from yesterday's cooking efforts, and hand washed some sweaters.
Good Lord; now it's time for lunch.
Just as Maria Teresa promised yesterday, Ciro and Luisa brought mozzarella di bufala. On Mariella's kitchen table sat a big mixing bowl filled with water and a bunch of mozzarella balls.
On the dining room table, a platter of breaded ovals between Ciro and Vincenzo.
"Cos' è?" I asked, pointed to them.
"Assagg'," Ciro nodded toward the platter. I tasted. And it was dee-lish. Luisa made croquettes of mozzarella, pureed potatoes, and herbs, rolled up and breaded. Nothing fried or baked, just complimentary flavors, highlighting the mozzarella. I learned you can't generically say "cheese" when describing the ingredients. It would be like us calling a prime aged ribeye simply "beef".
Giuseppe Uno approved of the wine I brought; a grillo. He inspected the label.
"Allucià," he started. "Come... come un reflessione," and he turned on his phone flashlight to highlight the foil on the label. Good thing I didn't rely on Google translate, which defined it as a hallucination. Instead, the Sicilian word is closer to what we'd call a "glint". Although allucià sounds like hallucinate. I wonder if 'mirage' is a closer translation. In any case, it's a good grillo.
Elena prepped plates for the kids; lasagne and some fritters. She explained all the things on the kitchen table were called ... a Sicilian word for leftovers. I know it in Italian, avansi del cibo, but already forgot what she called it in Sicilian.
"But I don't remember seeing lasagne last night," I commented.
"No; it was from Ettore's small party with friends. For the week of their birthday, they get seven wishes, one each day. And one of his was to eat lasagne with his friends ".
Official notice: My birthday celebrations are April 3rd - 10th from now on. I'm adopting this 7-day celebration.
Our lunch was, as Friday dictates, linguine with clams and other seafood. Followed by the mozzarella balls. Followed by fresh oranges from Vincenzo's orchard, and three types of fichidindia.
Matteo was goofing around with the mozzarella, starting to grab one with his hands. Luisa stood up and, in no uncertain terms, let him know that is NOT ok. It takes a village — and also, the village appreciates it. I would not call any of it 'gentle parenting'. I have opinions about that.
Tasting the wine again, I told Giuseppe there are notes of peach. "Pere," he countered. Then Vincenzo added, "pere coscia," pronouncing it over all.
Coscia? But doesn't that mean thighs?
Vincenzo got a mischievous look in his eyes and scuttled off the the kitchen, coming back with two pere coscia to demonstrate why they are so named.
Ciro, a Napolitano man, made the (un?) appropriate murmurs.
We hung out in front of the kitchen elevator, talking to Maria Teresa and Rachele. We mentioned something or other about Doug, and I laughed, showing Teresa the video of Rachele trying to teach Doug how to say gioielleria. Raky disolved into a fit of laughter all over again. Teresa graciously offered that Italian words are hard. She had trouble saying parallelepippo when she was younger.
Out of nowhere, I was greeted by the beautifully scented and dressed Marisa. She and Carmelo are here to discuss the upcoming trip to Ciro and Luisa's new hotel in Florence.
We stayed for a while to chat, drink caffè, and EAT again, before excusing myself to go hunt Black Friday deals on airfare and try to catch John via WhatsApp.
My step count is under 1000 today. I'm just calling it an unplanned sloth day and rolling with it. I think we'll eat a light dinner (if any) and turn in early. We'll get plenty of exercise and food moderation next week!
The Leprechaun is buzzing again, but we're acting "offline," as Elena would say.
Tomorrow, Ettore's birthday!!! How did the not-quite two-year-old I first met suddenly become 6? I must say, this kid greets us and gives hugs, big grown kid that he is and all. I love that. Buon educazione. Taught respect.
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