The best Italian outside of Italy.
«I am the best Italian chef outside of Italy,» a voice emanates from the TV set loudly. «Kitchen Impossible» time. Once again, TV chef and ruffian of a nation Tim Mälzer has come up with his eternal slogan, grinning maliciously, and now it is time for the challenge.
«May the exercise succeed», I think to myself, and close my eyes. This little sentence was enough to make my mind wander into the distance. I leave the noisy confines of the city and cross the San Bernadino. Gradually, the landscape opens up and gives way to flatter scenery – I find myself flying towards the sea.
Everything here is lush, almost outside the norm. «Profumo! Amore!» These scents, these flavours of sun, sea, fish, espresso and love are in the air. Hustle and bustle everywhere, chatting, children shouting, a signora strides across the piazza with a bouquet of flowers in her arms. «Ragazzi» lounging on their Vespas. The boys fool around and are carefree and young. There is no one else who can stub out a cigarette as contemptuously as an Italian in unbearably tight jeans and designer sunglasses in front of the «Bar Centrale».
Drrrrrrrr!!!! The doorbell!
And so, I am rudely torn from my dream. A wine delivery from Tuscany. Just what I need.
Believe it or not – Italian blood flows in my veins! One might just as well consider me an Italian! «Certo!» And I am proud of every tiny molecule of it. I spent such wonderful hours in Italy – «meraviglioso». I am the best Italian outside of Italy. Once again, I am overcome with longing for the land of Sophia Loren and Marcello Mastroianni.
I better get Adam to realise that we need to treat ourselves to an Italian evening to get rid of the homesickness. With homemade pasta, with Prosecco, a nice bottle of «Antinori» from Tuscany, tiramisu or canoli with pistachio cream filling.
… and that is all I need for my mind to drive in my convertible with a baby-bluish hue on a little road through the beautiful, hilly Tuscan countryside. Vines as far as the eye can see, bales of straw, cypresses, bougainvillea, small picturesque villages with tiny stone houses and a bar. A castle-like building on the horizon. Somewhere a dog is barking.
Drrrrrrrr!!!! The doorbell!
Once more, I am rudely torn from my dreams. A delivery of salumi from Calabria and an order of extra virgin olive oil from a small «Fattoria» in Basilicata.
The parcel gives off a wonderful scent of «Prosciutto, Soppressata, Capocollo» and «Salsiccia, fatto in casa», homemade. Oh, you «macellai» of Italy, I idolise your craft. I tear open the parcel, greedily soak up its scent and instantly find myself in the little country inn with the water wheel. The entrance is barely visible because of all the flowers and terracotta pots and a pretty striped awning protects the terrace from the relentless sun. It’s far too hot to grab a bite, but an antipasti platter is served nonetheless. The waitress smiles mischievously as we comment in horror on the quantities of «Primo». The crystal-clear water of the stream flowing through the restaurant garden tirelessly makes a splashing sound as we fight our way through the truffle pasta and the «Tagliata di Manzo» with grana. To finish it up, a Grappa! Busy clattering sounds from the kitchen.
Drrrrrrrr!!!! The doorbell!
Barbarically, I am torn from my dream. At the door of our upper-class villa, I pick up a delivery of «Mozzarella di bufala» and lemons straight from Naples.
The intense scent of the lemon gardens on the Amalfi Coast finds its way deeply into my extremely sensitive olfactory organs, settles in my mind and instantly spreads a feeling of wellbeing. I gently caress the lemons like a child. I devoutly enjoy a «Caprese», whose cheesy, creamy aroma of «burrata» with basil oil and sun-ripe «pomodori» get all my taste buds going.
An intense, ice-cold «Granito di Limone», bought straight off the red Ape by the roadside, melts on my tongue. «Buonissimo! Arrivederci!»
I then enjoy a pistachio «affogato» on the steps of Positano with a view of the boats, the colourful beach loungers and parasols. I have sand between my toes and shouts of «cocco bello» ringing in my ears.
Drrrrrrrr!!!! The doorbell!
I hear myself sigh.
As Adam makes his way home from work that day, he finds a note in the deserted flat.
Ciao bello! Come find me somewhere in Italy. Now, I have not yet decided on the route, but it will be marvellous!
Life is beautiful – La vita é bella!
Copyright Illustration: Manuela Dona
