Before I could get the last matted bunch of bed hair out with a comb this morning, we were already walking to Ciccio Sul Mare for some cornetti with i Dottori and Mike’s parents. It was barely 10 am, and Ciccio’s was out of cornetti and pretty much everything on their menu, so we settled on servings of granita instead. It’s fascinating how such a prominent beach establishment can run out of their menu staples so early in the day, and somehow nobody is fazed. I can’t quite decide if this is a charming, laid-back Southern Italian quality or an annoying inconvenience. My cornetto-deprived taste buds are prodding my better judgment to pick the latter.
Mike’s parents and most of his relatives are like modern-day hunters. They get up early in the day and start ‘hunting’ for the day’s consummables. Instead of a bow and arrow to kill the fowl or a line and hook to catch the fish, they take a trip to the early morning markets and get first pick on the day’s choice produce. They have established relationships with the fishmongers who come by early in the morning and see if there’s anything good in stock. Sometimes his father takes special trips to the forest to pick asparagus. He would leave l’acqua blu to drive up to the other house only to pick tomatoes and zucchini blossoms from the garden. In the past they’ve gone on excursions destined for a specific fountain in a neighboring town only to bottle select drinking water.
It is their every day’s mission to feed everyone well. With this, comes the task of finding the best food possible. Undoubtedly, this is wonderful for us but sometimes I worry that his parents tire themselves out or stress too much about our meals. Sometimes I wish that they take it easy and not worry about food too much. Mike dismisses me with “They are retired and they have nothing else to worry about.” I suppose he’s right. I couldn’t think of a better diversion than food. But I still wish that they’d stop worrying about us dying of starvation if we sleep past 10 am!
Over the granita that was much too sweet to be enjoyable, it was agreed that i Dottori will have lunch with us and enjoy the fresh little clams that Mike’s father bought from the friendly fishmonger just hours before. We walked back to the house and immediately started working on lunch. Dottoressa and Mama worked on the clams and the linguine, and I started making some bruschetta from some AMAZING tomatoes. We all loved the meal and were licking our lips afterwards to get every last taste of the clam sauce. The few ingredients that were the white wine, olive oil, clams, parsley, and red pepper flakes, tossed in with some pasta made for some Italian magic. Such a simple meal, yet it was so good.
Over lunch, there were discussions on dinner which couldn’t come soon enough. It’s Suriaca Night after all and we had been looking forward to this night. We were going over to Mike’s cousin Lina’s house to enjoy white beans that have been slow-cooking all day long in a terracotta jar atop a tripod set over a low wood-burning fire. Of course, it was never to be just suriaca like the name we’ve bestowed on the special night would lead you to believe. Lina served a handful of different antipasti like roasted peppers, salumi, eggplant, potato brasciole. Though all of it was delectable, the main attraction didn’t need much of an introduction. She plated the suriaca, generously drizzled some olive oil, topped with chopped onions and put some crusty bread on the table. There were big pieces of onions that we used as ’spoons’ to scoop up the suriaca into our mouths for proper enjoyment and authentic peasant experience. White beans, water, herbs, salt, onions and oil, accompanied with the bread made for another piece of Italian magic. Who knew that something that was considered as peasant food could be so tasty and satisfying! Lina’s finale is her famous crostata con marmellata which I’ve been deaming about since I last had it two years ago. Her marmellata is home-made from the fruits that grow in her own garden. There was nothing fancy about the entire meal, yet again it was so good.
Mike’s parents are staying in the other house tonight. We are at the beach house. Tomorrow, we are left to fend for ourselves. I can’t bring myself to think of any more food right now. Tomorrow is another day. Tomorrow’s food will be a different story.
Someday Mike and I will turn into hunters too. It’s an inevitable fact since we are predisposed for such food-centric behaviors. Maybe when we’re retired, if we’re so lucky? As for tonight, I go to bed content with the present and delighted by all things simple and good.
I may not know what we shall eat tomorrow. But I know one thing. Since we had a late night, and the chances of us starving to death in our sleep is slim — I’m certain that we will be sleeping in past 10am.
