One of the ways to a man's heart is his stomach, what can go wrong?

As a girl growing up on the coasts of south Italy, a time that now seems like a lifetime ago, I heard over and over again that a way to a man's heart is his stomach. The women in my family passed our recipes from one generation to the next with sacred awe. I was the youngest of three siblings and was taught to execute these by the letter, be secretive about these recipes, and revere them. Cooking has always been an important ritual for us and has served this family on many occasions.

Evolutionary psychology could perhaps explain this apparently extreme tendency of passing recipes as kin selection; helping those of the same family, with the motive to increase our group's chance of finding a mate and reproducing our genes, ensuring our continuation.

Naked mole rats have such tendencies as they share very common genes in their colonies, so they are selfless as long as their colony succeeds. A naked mole rat colony is ruled and run by a queen who is the only breeding female, and she is always at the top of the hierarchy. So, first is the breeding female (the queen), then the breeding male class, then the nonbreeders by order of seniority. Very much like the bee or ant society structure. Hierarchy is very important to these species, as is in my family. Colony prosperity is the most important, as family prosperity is for us. The naked mole rats that are not in a breeding role have other roles useful to the colony: the soldiers -who if needed- will risk everything to save the colony, the nurses who focus on rearing children and pre-digesting food for the young of the colony (details not included in case someone is eating while reading this), full-time laborers, who are tasked with collecting food, nest materials, and so on. Sometimes, jobs overlap, but everyone has their role. Well, in my family, females are really in charge, but officially, or to an outsider, the males will seem to make the decisions.

Food has been an essential part of our culture, of our family and building connections, in celebrating happy moments, enduring painful or harsh moments, and extending knowledge to the next generation to preserve our traditions and ways. So, as a young woman back in the day, this was all I knew about charming a man. What could go wrong? A lot of things.

His name was Antonio, and he was my first love. His dark lush brown hair, his thick eyelashes, square jaw, and broad shoulders used to make me daydream of us sneaking out in the olive fields. To this day I am not quite sure if the emotions were reciprocated, and here comes the story of the time I cooked for him.

Our families knew each other, and his elder brother at the time was promised to marry my elder sister; it was the time just before their engagement. Antonio had fallen ill and had a fever for many days and our family was helping out his family. We made soups and lots of them. We helped out socially, keeping company to the family. This is not romantic at all, I know.

After a week, he did not have a fever anymore and had started recovering. He was still weak and needed to get some strength. I persuaded my mother to cook for him and go over again until he got his strength back.

I made a plan of a three-course meal, to show my love to Antonio, while my mother and sister were out. I put on some music and felt excited and inspired. "Volare" by Domenico Modugno started playing on repeat.

First, a classic insalata caprese. Juicy lively red tomatoes, fresh buffalo mozzarella, and fragrant basil leaves. Swift dancing moves, while I put some extra virgin olive oil from my family's production, accidentally spilling more.

"It's okay, it's okay, let's do the next dish".

Pollo alla Cacciatora with Patate al Rosmarino, by my family's recipe. Basically, chicken and potatoes with lots of herbs, cooked as a stew, with a really tender texture and scent of rosemary and other herbs. I almost mentioned some of the secret ingredients. By that moment I was singing along and doing little dance moves as I put the food to be cooked.

"Volare, oh oh

Cantare, oh oh oh oh



Nel blu, dipinto di blu

Felice di stare lassù"

Luca, my brother, walked in and my blood froze. He was back home and must have heard the music blasting and found me in the kitchen. A super embarrassing moment for me as a sixteen-year-old, as you can imagine.

Luca knew immediately, "Caterina, you are in love, who is he?" Very protective and saw right through me, so what's the point in hiding.

"Antonio, but it's just a crush", trying to explain or justify myself.

If we were naked mole rats, then my brother would have the role of the soldier of our colony, trying to protect its members from harm and or intruders. It was such an effort to persuade him to not say anything to the others. It took so much time, that I burnt the food a bit. Then to make up for the lost humidity, I added ingredients not of the recipe, like some warm rice water and a bit of high-fat butter, praying to Saints for the best outcome. It looked and smelled okay, but I had strayed from the recipe for the first time, and it may sound ridiculous but it felt like I had committed a crime.

Then time to prep the dessert, but the mixture of the Tiramisu was too runny, so the assembly went horribly wrong. It didn't look like the usual dessert, its shape and presentation were more abstract, to say kindly. Then I had an idea, and grabbed the ice cream scoop spoon thingy, and got some gelato from the fridge. We had leftover homemade Stracciatella, and hopefully, the dessert was saved, although it was cheating a bit. Luca insisted on accompanying me, so I got him to carry the food. Tough exterior but a kind soul. Antonio's family was living just next door, fear not, the gelato wouldn't melt so fast.

After we laid out the dishes, there was a bit of awkwardness as Luca tried to get comfortable in his seat and cleared his throat.

"So, Antonio, you like my sister's food?"

"It looks delicious", Antonio replied, blissfully unaware of what was going on.

"Alright, let's give it a try", I encouraged, anxious to see his reaction.

He tried the salad first, not disappointed, okay it's just a salad, simple, he grabbed a bit of bread to soak with olive oil. Okay, he liked it.

I let a breath out in relief. Next, the main dish. Oh, boy. I didn't even try it out of fear, as it was too late to back off. I played with my cutlery stirring the food on my plate, in distress.

"Mmm", and I watched him as he kept the herbed chicken and potatoes for a few moments in his mouth, before processing and swallowing. He closed his eyes slightly, exhaling "Ti voglio bene", and then panicked as he realized how it sounded and opened his eyes.

"What did you just say to my sister?", Luca almost jumped off his seat, and I tried to refrain him, still in my confusion. He had just declared his appreciation of me, or the food?

Antonio turned blush red, he was too cute, but I was in agony.

"Luca, he was just appreciating the food, there is nothing between us", and Antonio nodded nervously, terrified of making eye contact with Luca.

Luca was appeased, Antonio's face was saved, no dispute started between our families, and I was utterly confused and destroyed by embarrassment. We all continued eating in this lovely atmosphere. Luca and I left right after dessert, and I never brought it up again. Never again in the years to come have I insisted on charming a man with food.

THE END.