patron saints

On September 11th, in the airport in Naples, while Paola struggled tirelessly to get us home, while I cried and K fretted and security officials moved us from place to place, Paola said:
Oh, bb, I had two gifts made for you and K and they are not ready yet.
I don't remember what I said.
Her kindness was overwhelming, I was focused on getting home - she had already done so much for us and there she was dealing with the airlines, fretting with us and proving herself a friend in deed AND need. I just couldn't fathom how she could do more....

A few weeks ago, she emailed me to say that Fabio's uncle J had been visiting and that he would bring our gifts back to a town near Tuvalu. He manages a restaurant, she told us, and we should go have some dinner and pick up our package.

Weeks passed. K and I never managed to get to Uncle J's restaurant - until Friday night.
There were hiccups in our plans as we fetched children and K returned emails and phone calls, but we finally got in the car and drove a bit to meet Uncle J.



We got a parking space RIGHT IN FRONT of the restaurant.
Don't underestimate the value of this.

I had thought the restaurant would be a pizzeria. I don't know why I expected that, but I was dead wrong. Sure, there was a pizzeria in the very front of the building, but as we asked for J we were taken through a series of rooms packed with happy diners.

J was in the larger, more luxurious part of the establishment.
And he was a delight.
Happy to see us, thrilled to speak about his visit to Positano, anxious for us to eat.
We had a quiet table in the corner. He checked on us from time to time, but left us to ourselves to enjoy our meal.



Not a cell to be had at the table in the corner. No one could bother us (which did mean that K's sound man got a slightly tipsy phone call at ten pm) so we had plenty of time to eat and enjoy our time.



Uncle J sent a lovely bottle of wine. We drank all but a drop.



It was a great place to sit and look at people. All around us people were celebrating and laughing and eating terrific meals. Aromas wafted around us.



The decor was just right. Old world mixed with comfortable and new.



Upstairs were more rooms for parties. I would love to have a party there...

I had some eggplant and broccoli rabe. LOVE THE BROCCOLI RABE.
K ordered mussels.



I ate every bite of my meal. So. Good.
But, BUT: I have never in my life witnessed K eat they way he did that night.
As he started on the mussels I was concerned. He kept telling me that the chef had done something different, that he couldn't put his finger on what was in the sauce.
I feared that this meant he didn't like the sauce.
But I couldn't be more wrong.
He adored the sauce, and it was fennel.
He savored and enjoyed and sopped up every teeny bit of his meal.
He would have licked the plate if not for the attentive bus boy who removed it quickly.




So, the meal?
Wonderful.
Uncle J?
Delightful.

And our gifts?





I have no words.
Extraordinary isn't enough. Beautiful doesn't do them justice. Thoughtful can't capture it.

I feel like I have a sister in Positano.
And that I met her here, through a photo of Youngest, is inspiring.