Chinese Tonight
We (ok, Joe) booked our flights to Rome; I got proof of travel insurance, for Thailand, that comes with my AmEx card; we showered and tidied up, and then the phone rang. Mariella. Basically asking where the hell are you?!
Walking onto the back terrace, Luisa asked what took me so long. I explained Joe had a work call, and to add insult to injury, I'm arriving con le mani vuoti. Bringing nothing. She laughed loudly, and gave me a big hug and a kiss on my squished cheek.
We set the table, and lunch was served: fusilli corti in a light tomato sauce, polpettine, pane giuggulena, and more grapes. Everyone grabbed a beer, and Vincenzo offered me one. I said no, I don't drink beer. Giuseppe Rapisarda asked, You prefer wine? I said yes. I drink caffè, water, and wine. Me too, he said. I mentioned a bottle of chilled white. No, no, the Charme is finished, he said. Giuseppe, I brought a white Firriato yesterday. It's in the fridge. He ran to get it. We are partners.
After lunch, we were a little factory assembly line, making the bomboniere for Sunday's baptism ceremony. Matteo and Marta helped, and yes; they actually helped! I showed Matteo how to make all the folds of the little box that holds the biglietto and the almond confetti. He learned quickly. Elena watched, and commented that I'm a good teacher. Aw.
But, we soon ran out of confetti. I suggested that Joe and I could get more, but Alessandro and Elena looked over to the lawn chair and said, no, he's sleeping. Are you sure? (He still had on sunglasses). They each did a wild arm flailing dance in front of him, but he didn't move. "He's not dead?," I asked, to make sure he's breathing.
Eventually he woke up. Elena asked, sweetly, "Joseph, would you like to get more almonds for me?" Who could say no?
We went to the "regular" Decó, which indeed had the almonds, along with bottles of Charme, a Qua4er Vitis red, Fernet Branca, and toilet paper.
Joe needed to stop home to make a work call. I explained to Elena we'd be arriving in a while. As we were about to get into the car, having just shut the door, Joe realized he left the keys inside. This is the second time I didn't ask my habitual "have you got the keys?". That'll teach me. Luckily, a quick phone call to Elena provided remote garage door opening.
At the vigne, Andrea said Teresa awaits me in the living room, where it's calm. We ripped open the boxes and got to work, finishing in no time. There was nearly a full box of confetti left over. "For the next baby," I offered. "Madonna mia," Mariella said, as she entered the room and plopped into a chair.
Lounging on the patio, Luisa informed us she will not join us for dinner tonight. She eats Italian food, period. She's a lot like Joe that way! I don't hate on Asian food, but Chinese isn't my favorite. Too smoky-fried or gelatinous or limply steamed. But, I've only had the Americanized version, and am anxious to try it here. Mariella and Vincenzo are staying with Ciro and Luisa and going out for another night of pizza. I think Vincenzo is heartbroken. He loves new experiences.
We all freshened up; I brought a change of clothes. Joe and I walked outside, trading off Giulio in arms as the sun slowly faded. The day's end is breathtaking from here; a different sky every night.
Some kids struck up a fusball game while waiting, and Matteo raced around on his scooter, looking for bugs or geckos to pound into oblivion. If awake, he is always in motion.
Giorgia and Rachi descended the stairs, gliding down with their aura of youth and good Italian hair. Rachi assessed me up and down and said in perfect English, "You are stunning, as always," said the silk purse to the crumpled paper bag. I love this girl.
Tomaso, Simone, and Teà joined us in the Clio for the drive to Mei Wei (My Way) in Misterbianco, about 30 minutes from the vigne. I made small talk, consciously not asking the usual about-school questions. We were following Giuseppe Rapisarda and family, who stopped briefly for gas.
At Mei Wei, all tables are big and round, with an enormous lucite lazy Susan in the middle. Everyone ordered a beer; Mary ordered a large "sharing" bottle, not realizing Joe had ordered a regular bottle of Messina, and the rest of us were drinking wine. She shrugged and said she'll drink it anyway. We love her. Both Giuseppes settled on a white wine that Giuseppe Uno chose, a cataratto. I might've chosen the Kike, because Asian food needs about 5% sweetness to complement the spice and smoky flavors, but I was not about to argue the point.
We started with Daikon, Jellyfish (hard pass), Bao (this version was sweet; raisins were in it), chicken feet (hard pass again), egg rolls, and a hair-thin tangle of smoky rice noodles with seafood bits. For the mains, Joe ordered a wok lamb chop plate, I got shrimp and red peppers cooked on a hot plate, others got duck, rice, and Kung Pao chicken. My favorite was my selection. Italian Chinese is not that different from American Chinese restaurant (not takeout) food. I drank a lot of wine.
The best part was seeing all the cuginetti together, enjoying themselves.
Waiting for Joe to get the car, I reached down and Teà put her little hand in mine, and I've got to tell you, there's no sweeter feeling than that. I'm so grateful these kids are in my life.
They talked to us on the ride home, each one adding meaningful contributions. Tomaso talked about Orwell's Animal Farm, which he finished before Christmas (at age 12). We also discussed Nicolas Flamel, of Philosopher's Stone fame in Harry Potter, their upcoming trip to Montenegro, and last year's trip to India, amongst other things. We bid goodnight to Vincenzo, who met us in the parking space at the vigne, and after we saw our three passengers safely to the door, Joe remarked, "Those are three great kids," and he is more than correct. Again; I'm so grateful. So very grateful. I've realized for quite some time that my own kids choose building experiences elsewhere, and that's ok. I really feel that this family is a heavenly offering to me to offset any sadness about that. And indeed it has.
Sweet dreams.
Comments
Post a Comment