21 Sept. 2004
Torino, Italia

Okay. Let’s talk about what I just consumed … Federico and Paola had over the neighbors from the fourth floor for dinner tonight (as they told me a few days ago that now they will begin to socialize since the summer holiday is over and work routine has become normal again). Conveniently (and smartly), the kids – Bea and Maghi and neighbors, Tommaso and Eugenia, ate upstairs beforehand and then all traipsed down here for dinner (adults) and playtime (kids). Somewhere in the middle there was Laura, the nanny from America. Grouped in with the adults (and good food), I was invited to sit and enjoy what began as lighthearted and ended with me feeling very tired and full – almost Thanksgiving full, but not quite. Fist came the mozzarella – not string cheese in plastic packets, not a cheese wiz new flavor, but true mozzarella – a white glob of cheese for each of us, still a bit wet and eaten with a knife and fork along with bread if you prefer (which lays in slices on the tablecloth homemade from Paola’s mother). I grasp my knife and fork and quickly observe how everyone else eats it before sliding the first fresh and delicious taste in my mouth to make sure I do the same – it’s not everyday I have a white glob of cheese set before me. One thing I have noticed about Italian eating is it’s fast – very fast. By the time I had my second bite of mozzarella, Flat #4 husband was finished. Laura, the girl who takes an hour to eat a sandwich, doesn’t help any. Next comes the pasta – and not only pasta, but a bowlful of thick shells along with shrimp (fresh) and zucchini in a buttery, olive oil sauce. Pass the bread to scoop and dip and everyone is set. At this time Federico opens a bottle of white wine – his boyish face and excitement can’t wait to share it with friends.

As I try to finish my bowl quick enough so as not to slow down the course speed, Federico begins to cook the meat as Paola mixes the oil and vinegar into the freshly picked lettuce (from Paola’s parent’s house) and baby tomatoes and places it on the table. Though the lettuce is a bit tart, its certainly fresh and the taste is nice. Federico asks how everyone wants his or her meat cooked and rare is the verdict. I just go with the flow and try to be adventurous when he asks me how I like mine, “Whatever is fine,” I say, thinking to myself, “How bad could it be?” But when Federico begins to cut the meat and it’s even too rare to bleed, I think maybe a good ole medium stake at The Outback would be better. Federico knows the American mentality and asks me again, which I am so grateful for. So while I eat my pinkish-brown slice, the others enjoy meat that can be folded over it is so rare. I will reach this point within the year, I decide ... right. With the meat comes a new bottle of wine, red this time and I don’t even try to taste it because I know I will not like it. As my stomach bulges and I am now thinking that a year here could be bad news, the special ice cream/gelato only made in Torino comes out with blueberries and raspberries as toppings. It is scooped into a bowl (how many dishes have we now gone through?) and handed out to enjoy – which of course, I do – though it tastes a bit like freezer burned ice cream from home because of the different “Torino” texture to the gelato. That doesn’t stop me from eating it, however (it never has before). Finally when I think it is over, and after Federico has opened a new bottle of wine (the third, while the others are only half gone, and this time its as sweet as sparkling cider so I love it), he brings out the bowl of fruit and he munches on grapes. I am amazed and quite impressed.

Did I mention the entire thing is in Italian?

It is an odd feeling, sitting at a table with two couples who are friends and about 15 years older than you. But put in the fact that they are speaking another language (I think I caught five words) and odd does not do the feeling justice. And so it’s Italian in my ears – the language that seems to roll off your tongue and never take a breath, but continues as a song or a never-ending sentence. They speak loudly and at times over one another, all the while thoughts of my own wander as I stuff my face and observe:

• Is this really cheese? For a moment I thought they were blobs of sour cream.
• Oh, ok, so we don’t even put it on bread? No tomato? Ok, just knife and fork. Wow, it’s really good.
• Is he seriously finished? I wonder if he is German. He looks kind of German and his hair is cut like you’d think a German’s would be in that crew cut look. I think his nose looks German.
• I have got to stuff this down fast – I am the last one again and its just cheese for goodness sake.
• I really want some salt for this pasta. Maybe if I can catch Paola’s eye I can motion for it … yeah, it’s too far to reach … should I just ask Paola and interrupt, I mean, I’m eating here too. It’s not that big of a deal. I think I’ll survive without the salt; besides, it’s really not that good for you anyway. These zucchini are really good.
• So, do women not have engagement rings here? Everyone (well, the two women here) just both have simple gold bands … interesting … that’s probably better, then you really know you are marrying for love and not just to get a ring … I can’t imagine not having a ring, though.
• Federico reminds me of a boy or teenager, he’s so excited about life and his expressions are like a boy’s trapped in a man’s face.
• Ok, seriously, I think that meat might make me sick if I look at it any longer. Wow, it’s so rare that its purple. I mean, if they eat it and are fine, I will be fine, right? Why did I say that I didn’t care how it was cooked? … stupid …
• Ok, I know Floor #4 wife explained that this gelato is special to Torino because it has the whites and yokes of the egg in it, but seriously people, it does taste kind of like freezer burned ice cream, like when its kind of icy … I mean, I’m not saying I won’t have any … it just reminded me.
• I think they are talking about the new kitchen.
• I really want some raspberries. This table is kind of long. I can’t reach them. Should I ask? Laura, can’t you just be satisfied with the blueberries? Just take some more of them, jeesh … good idea … I really want some raspberries, though.
• Oh my gosh, Floor #4 husband definitely has something almost coming out of his nose … seriously what is it? Good thing it’s only visible from my side, for his sake. I wonder if he can feel that thing hanging? Seriously, can’t you do something about that? … Oh, It’s gone, I wonder what happened?
• I like the wine! Tastes like sparkling cider.
• I am so full … is Federico really still eating? How is he so small? I don’t get it …
• I totally don’t understand what they are saying … wait, I recognized that word.I wonder if we’ll have biscuits again in the morning.