11-Decembre-2008

It was another day of rain. Eleonora (in case you don’t remember, she’s Lorenzo’s wife), says to me right when I get to work that this weather is very unusual. 2 days of sun out of 11, and it’s not looking any brighter for the next 3 either. Winter is a dismal time of year, even amongst the classic backdrop set by the city. A former intern, on his roundabout way home to the States from England, stopped in for a few days and spent the day with us. Josh is his name, and he’s a phenomenal worker, quick, agile and focused, while being light spirited and jovial throughout the day. He’s coming from a Michelin two star restaurant in Oxford, and the name is escaping me at the moment, but his story is a brave one, and I admire him for his dedication and perseverance. As the renovation continues in the kitchen, we’re working around a tradesman and the chef, while re-arranging and protecting the food from construction debris. It’s an unusual complication, but with a little common sense, and enough history with how these events proceed, I have no problem accomplishing my necessary prep and service responsibilities around the perpetual rearrangement and temporarily discombobulated surroundings. With a party of 20 for lunch, we ambitiously sit down for family meal and are interrupted shortly thereafter to begin service. Smoothly progressing from relaxation to action, all four courses go out without a hitch and we execute, clean and eliminate all threats in what felt like record time. Only one or two more projects left on the board for the day, we set in and focus on ending the morning without haste. Gnocchi was my last task, a traditional, delicious and authentic; another recipe to add to the collection. Lorenzo proceeds to tell us that we’ll be closed for the evening and we’ll be going out to dinner together instead. Nothing to complain about.
Dinner is at a small restaurant, event facility about 20 minutes outside the city. It appears that the proprietors are a family who live in the building, on the floors above the restaurant. An open fire flares in the kitchen as we wait, and commiserate with the owners. It would seem that there are three generations at work in the kitchen and the will be putting their best foot forward. Antipasto, then crostini, followed by tagliatelle, chased by the meat course which consisted of fire roasted pork, lamb and cured sausage with potato chips and salad. The final course from the kitchen was a trio of desserts: crème brulee, tiramisu and ricotta gelatin. Josh provided some Italian cigars, and we enjoyed them (in the restaurant) as we talked and finished our drinks. The food was good, but it was not the purpose of this meal. This was the family of the restaurant, the fraternity, because the numbers are predominantly composed of men, besides Sra. Polegri and one female waitress, which is eerily similar to my own family, so we could enjoy each others’ company while we filled our stomachs with food and wine. To call it a bonding experience would not be fitting, because this is not so much a strategy as much as it is simply a lifestyle. Food, friends and/or family, and the joyous, rambunctious, surrender of self that is inevitable at these events are not imposed, yet enjoyed and relished, nearly unknowingly while it is underway. I had a great time, and found myself exhausted following the meal, so had to decline the offer to go out for drinks following. Perhaps it’s my sense of dismissal, in keeping my distance from people, or the financial concerns of overburdening my budget so early in the trip, but it’s more likely due to the fact that I have not had a good nights’ sleep since I’ve been here. I’m hoping for a change of pace. A relaxed, upbeat, social evening, a moment with my thoughts to reflect on the day and my experiences in the last week and-a-half could, I certainly hope, be the key to a night of deep, greatly deserved sleep.
Buona Notte.
Go Slow. Stay Local.
Va Piano. Rimane Locale.