Friends Reunion, Italian cooks

August 17 2009

I just returned from my Nonna’s house, and I ate a truck-load of home-made stuffed shells, cheese and meat. They were absolutely delicious, and my little Italian Nonna cooked her buns off all day to feed us. Aside from the dinner, she also cooked a moist cheesecake served with strawberries, and a Carol Labis cake. My whole life I thought that Carol Labis was the equivalent to someone like Betty Crocker. In fact, I learned three years ago that Mrs. Labis is my grandmother’s old friend, and it was her original recipe. What a life-changing shocker!

Earlier today, my younger sister, Alyssa, had a voice recital. She sang one song from “Jesus Christ Super Star,” and she was absolutely dreading it! Anyone who knows my sister, knows that she is one of the most stubborn, thick-skinned, independent people in the world. She never sings for the family or voluntarily shows interest in her various activities, and she frequently complains. We love her so much, but she doesn’t give herself enough credit with anything that she does. We all went, all six of us, including my Nonna. She was certainly not happy to be there and threatened mom not to film; it was comical. However, when she sang, she blew us all away. I was flabbergasted by the quality and power of her voice, and I started crying because she keeps it all to herself, locked in her bedroom only practicing when it is absolutely necessary. All of her three older siblings sing, and I think that she feels that her boycott makes her different. In any case, we all told her how incredible she was, and I was very proud.

Yesterday I went to see my best friend from college, Fanny, in Shadyside. Fanny moved from France with her family when she was a freshman in high school, and we met sophomore year in college at Penn State. I know you are wondering about her name because there was not a new acquaintance during school that didn’t ask for further clarification. Fanny is not an abbreviated name, and although it is not common in France, it certainly does not signify “rump” “buttox” or any other bottom. We lived together for the next two and a half years in our apartment, and we were nearly inseparable at the end. We have many wonderful memories, and she is now studying medicine at Pitt University with her boyfriend, Doug. Thank goodness Fanny wasn’t in a serious relationship during college; she is nearly married to Doug at this point. Even if I were living in the city, I would think that it would be hard to see one another with her med school schedule/boyfriend and my own activities.

She lives in Shadyside, which is a suburb of Pittsburgh, and it is a very beautiful area of town with tree-lined streets, quaint shopping districts, and beautiful old homes. It is a cultural area that attracts an artsy crowd with an eclectic array of art galleries, coffee shops, specialty stores, and many restaurants offering varied cuisine and atmosphere, including some that are byob. Her “apartment” is the third floor of a beautiful home on one of the most prominent streets--she really found a great deal because it is spacious and less expensive because she is living above someone’s house. Anyways, she, Jenn, and I went to a newly opened French restaurant, Paris 66, nearby where they serve crepes. Fanny knows the owners, as they are all a part of the French Alliance in Pittsburgh. It is a cozy little place with French décor and small tables, French being spoken in the open kitchen, and a back patio refinished with a red ochre brick wall with climbing vines. I ordered a lunch crepe that I cannot brag about, but I hope that their dessert crepes would be more pleasing. Nevertheless, we had a good time, and it might have been the last time in a while that we will be together.

Jenn decided to go home, as she was tired. However, I suspect that she wanted to be in top shape for her date that night with Matt. She has been planning to get a tattoo for some time, and she was hinting at getting it that day. I told her that I would accompany her to the tattoo parlor as we had talked about, but when she opted to go home I figured that she had either changed her mind or she had intentions to propose this as a date with Matt. Later that night as I was eating dinner with my family, Jenn texted me saying that she was getting her tattoo: “La Vita e’ Bella” (Life is Beautiful) on the underside of her wrist—in white. I am not a fan of any tattoos, but Jenn’s has been the most palatable that I’ve heard of in years. If I were to get a tattoo tomorrow, I might choose to write: “Sincerita,” which means sincerity in Italian. That being said, I will not be getting a tattoo tomorrow.

Fanny and I went to the Giant Eagle in the Market District in Shadyside, Fanny for shopping, me because there was a famous Italian chef there doing a book signing. Of course, you might be saying, “She is obsessed with Italy.” And, ding ding, ding you are right!

Aside: I actually try to minimize my Italian talk, but when you’ve been living your life their for so long, it is hard to avoid the subject all together. It is a big interest of mine, and hopefully at some point I will feel satiated with my intense intrigue over the culture—but not any time soon.

The chef’s name is Fabio Viviani, and he was on the last season of “Top Chef;” he supposedly went very far and didn’t win, but I never watched the show. I read that he was voted to be the “fan favorite,” and he just came out with a cookbook actually written in his broken English, which was very funny and typical. He did a cooking demonstration of three dishes for the small crowd, and he entertained us the whole time; he really has a funny personality. I was disappointed when he talked about his wife because I was slowly developing a crush for him, and I was even more appalled when he said that she is a vegetarian! How can you have a world-renowned cook, specializing in Italian cuisine with all of those delicious meats, and have him prepare tofu for his wife? That fact makes me almost ill when I try to understand the irony in life.

I kept trying to make eye contact with him, and if he wasn’t married, I might have rashly left my number at the book signing. Instead, I spoke to him in Italian, and we took a picture together. He asked somewhat surprised, “how come you speak such good Italian,” and I explained. The conversation was short but sweet, and he wrote, “We will see one another in Milan.” Haha, I wish Fabio! When we meet up, cook me a fabulous Florentine steak!—Also give me a VIP pass to your restaurant, Café Firenze, in LA! He is an attractive Italian from Florence, he seems to be passionate, creative, and energetic with great sense of humor, and he has a magnetic, humble personality. I wish I could find a man similar to him in this world; he doesn’t need to be a chef of course, but a man that packages those traits—especially passion and humor. I am looking for an extraordinary person--sometimes you don’t need to find him in fabulous places—he just needs to shine brightly in your eyes.

Oh and to let you all know, I never did buy the book. Aside from the fact that I am broke, I realized that half of the book was cocktail recipes and beautiful photographs; although I love beautiful photography and fun drinks, I was hoping for more authentic and simple recipes, which is what he promoted during his demonstration. Sorry Fab, I guess your signature will have to do for now.

I brought him up giddily to my family, only to receive ridicule for my fanciful notions of marrying him once he divorces his wife for not liking meat. I mean, common! In any case, I was more excited about the renewed faith I had for possibilities in the world than I actually was in becoming his stalker.

Aside: I need to do some serious life thinking and researching this week. The only constructive thing I have been doing lately has been reading and writing in this “blog” that has still not left Word. Brainstorm Cara! I can’t believe that I have to leave so soon…what am I doing with my life??