Keeping Faith by Cindy Bradford (serial 24)
Chapter 9 Part IV
Cindy Bradford
When he arrived at exactly six o’clock, Carmella strolled onto the terrace, putting his uneasiness to rest with a big hug, followed by a kiss on both cheeks.
“It is so wonderful to have you in our home.”
“You look stunning, Carmella,” he offered shyly.
“How debonair you look, Patrico.”
Although he knew this was not exactly true, he was relieved that his attire was acceptable and that he had brought his razor. Before the trip he had determined he wanted to let his hair grow and not shave, to satisfy his curiosity of what he would look like scruffy. Those plans would wait, he decided
“First, we must have a Bellini cocktail,” Carmella said, “and then Stefano can boast about his latest wines.”
“I don’t think I have tasted a Bellini.”
“Oh, they are so good on these warm nights. They are a refreshing mixture of peach juice and Prosecco, a sparkling wine,” she explained. “We buy Prosecco because it comes from the Veneto region.”
Embarrassed that he drank the cocktail so fast, Patrick said, “That was indeed refreshing. I was thirsty after my short nap.”
“So, you did rest?”
“I set my alarm for one hour and that brief time certainly gave me new energy.”
“Red or white?” Stefano asked, as he held up two bottles. He was like a little boy wanting to open packages at Christmas.
“Stef, he may want another Bellini.”
“No, this is fine,” Patrick said, seeing how eager Stefano was for him to sample his wine.
“I think red, tonight.”
“Good choice.” He poured a tiny amount and waited on Patrick to taste. Fortunately, Patrick had seen this in the movies or he would not have known to slowly bring the glass under his nose and then sip gingerly.
“This is outstanding, Stefano. My compliments to the wine master.”
Stefano chuckled, obviously proud. “It is better than it should be in these Riedel glasses. Some years, the grapes need help and this was one of those vintages, but it is good, just not as good as some. At dinner we will have some of the older, fuller bodied reds. And tomorrow you have to see my wine cellar.”
“And the entire house,” added Carmella. “Tomorrow, tomorrow,” she said softly, “but tonight we drink to our new friend, Patrico, and enjoy some of the most delicious foods in the world.”
Carmella was true to her word. For hors d’ oeuvres, Carmen brought to the terrace, baccalá fritto, which Carmella explained to Patrick to be fried salt cod, a Roman classic.
“Shall we move to the dining room?”
“Let us again sit in the smaller room. It just feels so much more intimate than the big room when there are just the three of us. The table was set to perfection with more gold ware, china and stemware than Patrick had ever seen in one setting. He knew he would have to watch closely to be certain he was using the correct utensils and crystal to match the food courses.
“The first course is gnocchetti alla ‘amatriciana, Patrico. I am giving you your first lesson in Italian food tonight so you can impress the locals when you dine.”
He was glad for her information because he knew very little about Italian cuisine, except for spaghetti and pizza, which he admitted to himself, was not exactly fine cuisine.
“This is quite delicious. Let me guess before you tell me. I taste potato, tomato, onion and maybe bacon.”
“You are very close. Actually those are potato dumplings and the sauce has finely chopped pancetta.”
As Stefano poured more wine, Patrick began to feel warm inside. Wondering if it was the wine, his thoughts turned inward for just a brief moment, reminding him of the same feeling a young child gains when he crawls into his grandmother’s soft lap on a warm summer night. That is the way these two people make one feel, Patrick thought, safe, wanted and comfortable. Because he had not experienced such happiness in a long time, he hoped this would be the beginning of a long and caring friendship.
A large plate set before him interrupted his thoughts. “I will not be able to wear the clothes I brought if I eat here much longer.”
“This mortadella stuffed pork loin is ever so light as is the Tuscan kale and leek flan,” Carmella stated.
“What about these rosemary roasted potatoes?” he asked, glad he recognized them.
“Oh, do not be silly; you are thin as a rail.”
“Yes, that is what she told me once and look at me now,” Stefano laughed, touching his protruding stomach.
After the main course, they slowly ate their radicchio, friśee and artichoke salad.
“At lunch today you noticed we had the salad first like you Americans are accustomed. It is customarily not that way here. We have the salad after the main portion. When you go to a restaurant and choose to have a salad you will have to ask if you want it served first.”
“I wouldn’t have known that. This is very good, but it does seem odd having it last.”
“It will not be last because Claudia has made a delectable dessert called millefoglie, the Italian version of the French pastry meaning thousand leaves, layered with rhubarb and grappa cream. But let’s go into the courtyard and let our meal settle first.”
“Would you like some coffee, Patrico?”
“Yes, that would be good. I’m afraid I might fall asleep in my chair otherwise.”
“Have a nip of Amaretto liqueur, on the side,” Stefano said as he handed both Carmella and Patrick each a glass just slightly larger than a shot.
“Thank you, I do believe this is the finest meal and warmest treatment I have ever experienced. May I toast my new friends?”
The three clicked their glasses before sipping the warm liqueur.
“We hope this introduction to Italy will be the first of many wonderful times for you,” Carmella said softly.
After dessert, Patrick said, “I don’t know exactly how to say this, but growing up my parents always taught us to help clean up after a meal. I don’t want to sound like I have no manners but…”
“Patrico, you have impeccable manners, but Claudia will definitely not let you in her kitchen.”
“Okay,” he grinned, “Then I think I will crash. I’m very full and very sleepy.”
“I am too, Patrico. Don’t worry about waking up early. Carmen will have your breakfast whenever you show up in the main house.”
“I will check back about 10:00 a.m. or so to finish our tour,” Stefano said, his large hand covering a yawn.
“Goodnight,” Patrick said, rising from his chair.
“Goodnight, Patrico,” they said almost in unison.