I am in pain. I love food, i love big dinners … but even I have my limits. It’s an amusing concept that lasagne could be considered an appetizer… but living through it, it’s a whole other battle.
First typical antipasto. Then bread. Followed by fist sized tortelli stuffed with ricotta and spinach. I was mostly full by now but no, on comes the artichoke lasagne. Then three different meat courses, sided by various roasted potatoes and vegetables and a spanakopita type dish. Then salads, finally followed by two different cakes and espresso for dessert. Ow.
The family was so lovely. It was the family of the neighbour to this house, she was aware I was going to be alone on Easter and she invited me along to her family’s lunch. She speaks about as much English as I do Italian, but she assured me her cousin who would be there spoke decent English. He lives in Milan and explained to me he learned English through the advertisements along the side of his Gmail. Legit.
The conversations were interesting to say the least. The fifteen year old daughter of the neighbour had been out to the discotheque the night before and met the most recent winner of Big Brother Italia and showed me her pictures with him. “He is a gay.” She explains, scrolling through the numerous photos of Mykel in hot pink pants and a cutoff shirt. Adorable Zio Franco keeps yelling down the table for the English speaking cousin to ask me if I like the tortelli. If I like the Spumante. If we eat this much in Canada. Nona across the table from me also keeps intstructing him to ask me if I want more wine or if I find it cold inside. I keep saying “Capito, capito,” cause I really am getting to understand the language, but my responses are below caveman grade.
Cousin: “Do you have the sister or the brother?”
Liz: “Ah … Me and one sister. Sister has twenty and six year. Sister is two babies. Babies are two brothers. Very … good babies.”
First typical antipasto. Then bread. Followed by fist sized tortelli stuffed with ricotta and spinach. I was mostly full by now but no, on comes the artichoke lasagne. Then three different meat courses, sided by various roasted potatoes and vegetables and a spanakopita type dish. Then salads, finally followed by two different cakes and espresso for dessert. Ow.
The family was so lovely. It was the family of the neighbour to this house, she was aware I was going to be alone on Easter and she invited me along to her family’s lunch. She speaks about as much English as I do Italian, but she assured me her cousin who would be there spoke decent English. He lives in Milan and explained to me he learned English through the advertisements along the side of his Gmail. Legit.
The conversations were interesting to say the least. The fifteen year old daughter of the neighbour had been out to the discotheque the night before and met the most recent winner of Big Brother Italia and showed me her pictures with him. “He is a gay.” She explains, scrolling through the numerous photos of Mykel in hot pink pants and a cutoff shirt. Adorable Zio Franco keeps yelling down the table for the English speaking cousin to ask me if I like the tortelli. If I like the Spumante. If we eat this much in Canada. Nona across the table from me also keeps intstructing him to ask me if I want more wine or if I find it cold inside. I keep saying “Capito, capito,” cause I really am getting to understand the language, but my responses are below caveman grade.
Cousin: “Do you have the sister or the brother?”
Liz: “Ah … Me and one sister. Sister has twenty and six year. Sister is two babies. Babies are two brothers. Very … good babies.”
I made them a crostata al limone meringata. They don’t have measuring utensils, or cornstarch, or electric beaters. Looks like I still hold the MasterBaker title even internationally.
I am now trying to digest lying on the couch watching Troy dubbed over in Italian. Only mildly less sucky.
Oh God. I read that aloud to Sharma and we cracked up. You are the effing best.
ReplyDeleteLiz: “Ah … Me and one sister. Sister has twenty and six year. Sister is two babies. Babies are two brothers. Very … good babies.”
I want to be eating dinner with this family and you.
ReplyDeletenice-looking pie.
miss you old Liz.
love dad