Flavours of the World

I am so hungry, I could eat a cow! What time could it possibly be? When you are stuck in a windowless room for hours on end, it becomes hard to keep track of time. How can taking care of such a tiny area take so long? It seems as if I’ve spent an inordinate amount of time fixing up the shelving in this bedroom closet. This all started a few weeks ago, as we unexpectedly found ourselves with so much free time on our hands. So, after some debate and hardly any planning, we decided that this was as good a time as any to tackle the long overdue renovation of our bedroom and bathroom. This process is taking considerably longer than either of us anticipated. Plastering, painting, tiling and all the while trying to keep some semblance of cleanliness is exhausting. It feels like groundhog day every day since we started on this endeavour.

Thank goodness my very favourite room is far enough away from the mess. The need for sustenance is intensifying at the thought of reaching my comfort zone. On my way there, I notice that Peter is snoozing on his well- loved recliner with a dark beer still in his hand, and the television on a sci-fi movie channel at maximum volume. I’ve always been jealous of his uncanny ability to fall asleep almost anywhere despite all the loud noises around him. I actually did not even notice when he left the “construction-disaster” site. He must have called it quits to allow the plaster to dry or, more likely, because he figured it must be “happy hour” at least in one time zone .

Time has definitely eluded me today and it seems like I hardly made any progress. The sun has already set on this autumn day, my breakfast cereal is a distant memory and lunch was clearly bypassed. Time is supposed to go quickly when you are having fun...I would not call any of the tasks I accomplished today “fun”. Nonetheless, we will be very happy to enjoy our new quarters, hopefully in the very near future.

Now the hunger is so fierce that I’m feeling faint and can hardly think of what I’d like to eat. Suddenly, a bright light is shining right into my weary eyes and I feel as if I am brought into a strange state of hypnosis. Tantalizing aromas start to tickle my fancy and my senses are now on high alert. The first perfume to reach my nose is some kind of curry spices with cilantro, coconut and maybe a hint of lemongrass. Further along, the scent

is a mix of cumin, cinnamon and chili. Then, it is a fish or seafood smell with a copious amount of garlic emanating from yet another direction. I feel like a puppy sniffing around to find the trails leading to delicious food. I close my eyes. I take a few big whiffs and just like that my heart is racing and I’m salivating copiously.

-It’s here! This is what I have been craving and I have finally found it. There are only a small number of tables, all within earshot of each other. They are covered with a typical red and white checkered tablecloth with a tiny vase of red carnations and a greasy bottle of spicy oil to the side. Dalida is belting out “Gigi l’amoroso” through staticky wall-mounted speakers. A single waiter is busy making endless return trips across a swinging

door. No bill of fare is handed to patrons once they are ushered to a table. There is a slate leaning precariously on an undersized easel. The first chalky line reads: “Menu dello chef” and the other four or five lines listed below constitute the entire selection of items available on tonight’s menu. First, and without any prompting on our part, a carafe of red wine and a couple of stemless glasses are plonked on the table. Follows a succession of bowls and plates brought to us with a mostly unintelligible but very charming description. Each one is tastier than the last. A crescendo of flavours to delight the palate. The latest arrival is a dish of long, flat and relatively wide pasta noodles blanketed in a rich, thick meat laden sauce. A sumptuous perfume of fresh tomatoes, basil and other herbs billows up from the steaming plate.

“ Pappardelle alla bolognese” chants the server, adding “tutto e fresco e fatto a mano” twirling his hands in the air as a curtesy translation.

From the first bite, it is stupendously good. It is like a little taste of heaven in your mouth. When combined with the local ripassa, there are simply no words. I reflexively bring my hand with the fingertips tightly together near my mouth and make a lip-smacking sound expressing my appreciation. The whole experience has a mystical quality that is elusive. Such occasions are usually the result of various elements coming together in perfect harmony. The location, the environment, who you are with, everybody’s state of mind and, of course, the food being served are all interdependent. Those components have to dance to a given rhythm for the magic to happen.

Almost at the same time, I hear a thud and I can sense that the room is suddenly very dark. I slowly open my eyes and Peter is right next to me with an exasperated look on his face.

‘You’re not considering eating any of the food in those white cartons, are you? I just got all that stuff earlier and it’s for tomorrow’s “annual international potluck”! I wasn’t exactly sure what to get so I bought a selection. If the past years are any indication, all the food will disappear in no time flat. And you’ve been standing there a while and I just heard you make a strange kissing sound and I thought that I’d better check what you were up to...’

‘Yee of little faith, I was just studying what was available...’

‘Uh, uh...’

‘Opening the fridge door and smelling that wonderful Italian food

brought me right back to that tiny trattoria in Sant’ Agata where we had one of the best meals ever!’

It is truly amazing how opening that fridge can be like going through a magic portal to the flavours of the world.