chez les Italiens

No, I haven’t been able to go busting medieval villages. Student administration is so fastidious, I would prefer stay home and enjoy my eternal siesta. Then I find myself in a dilemma.

There’s an entry test to do tomorrow. At nine in the morning. On the other hand, an invite from Alessio, friend of new flatmates, for dinner at his parents in the countryside near the border of Tuscany (only three kilometres to the land of the Renaissance, they told me!).

You see what trouble I’ll get into. I’ve once been to a party chez les Français and they are unstoppable once the hors d’ouvre roll out in the evening. The Italians are bound to be no different.

They say, Life is nothing if you don’t take risk. The way I see it, Life is crap without a bit of enthralling risk to spice up my otherwise mundane existance.

Allora io vado. Ok, I go. The trip itself is less than an hour, the Umbrian landscape remains effervescent basking under fuzzy sunset glow.

Nine p.m. sharp everyone at the table in the garden. Chequered table cloth. Two bowls of penne, very simple sauce, one pasta fredda with mozzarella the other just tomato sauce. These are simple, no fuss, and tasty. Which is pretty much how it carries out throughout.

This is my personal opinion, but unlike the French and their extravagant taste (sans chichi, yeah right!) Italians tend to prefer simplicity. The entrée is fried aubergine with whatever sauce (I have no clue) – it’s delicious, prosciutto crudo with melon (yumm!). Main course is steak but I have balloned out at this point. Then of course you have the table wine, home made thank you very much. Then the liqueur.

Further to my observance à la ignoramus, Italians seem to love taking the mickey out of more chic cousins in the North. There’s been more than a few occasions where, during the dinner, someone would say, Alessandro mi puoi passare il sale, s’il vous plait. Then there’s Bonne Nuit instead of buona notte, just for a bit of fun. Then the overuse of the word chic, the parole «chic» is molto chic in Italy!

Nevertheless, Good food. Good company. Unfortunately my Italian is still crap enough to keep up with those flamboyant and rapid-fire speaking, and let’s not forget pasta eating, Italians.

Ah the endless joy… balmy Italian night.