Dinner....and Dinner

Taking advantage of the luxury of having my own vehicle if only for a week, I drove back to Arezzo today to visit the clothing store which was closed on Monday. I stopped first to get gas. Filling the car with gasoline is another new thing. I’ve been told you pay first, or insert money into some kind of machine. Because I never like to try anything new, I tend to drive into a station which does not say “Self-service” and if I sit in the car for a minute or two looking particularly helpless a nice man will usually come over and put gas into the car for me. Playing helpless is a new experience for me! The station attendants tend to be good looking which is an added bonus from my perspective.

I negotiated the busy streets inside the walled portion of the Arezzo which consist of many narrow one-way streets with a large number of Vespas whizzing around, cutting me off right and left, and found parking in a subterranean garage. It was a quick hike to the clothing store which did turn out to be for larger women; however things worked just a little differently. The woman wanted to know my size and color preferences and what I was looking for. She then would bring things to show me, none of which I liked. Like many stores specializing in larger sizes it had a good selection of things that seemed a bit aged for my taste. The fitting room was actually a corner of the shop with a tall curtain, although I noticed one woman trying on shirts right in middle of the shop for the whole world to see. I did try on a pair of jeans which fit well and had the added bonus of a couple of extra buttons to make the pants smaller by 2 inches in the event I lose more weight. Perhaps these buttons were actually intended to be an expansion panel which could be enlarged after a luscious meal of Italian food. I was considering the jeans when I looked at the price tag, 128 Euro, $205! After pounding my chest a couple of times to restart my heart, I asked about other jeans and the next pair she brought were $240. I decided to quit while I was ahead. I really cannot imagine spending that kind of money on a pair of jeans I may outgrow. I think I will wait and if I do need a smaller size before I leave for Germany, I can always return.

On the drive back to Cortona I decided it would be a good night to go out to dinner. I stopped home to change into a silk shirt and to try to poof up my boyish and uncooperative hair style and met Maria in the hall. She wanted to let me know that a dinner she’d invited me to would be at 8:00. She had previously told me it would be on Friday evening so I planned my week around it. I confirmed dinner at 8:00 and nipped ‘round to a local establishment and ordered a primo, first, of tagliatelle with fresh truffles, and a secondo, second, of scaloppini with mushrooms. In due time the waitress appeared with a heaping bowl of lovely golden pasta topped with bits of gray truffle. I am sure the truffle could not have been fresh as it really had no flavor and the texture was dry with a gritty crunch, however the pasta had a good flavor and I had no problem cleaning my plate. I was truly hungry! The next course shortly followed and was tender scaloppini and a brown sauce nearly hidden by a mound of flavorful mushrooms. Normally, in Italy, the meat course is quite small, but this was truly generous. I ate little more than half before giving up and stopping before my seams burst.

I groaned home at about 8:15 and the moment I entered the front hall Maria popped out her door to tell me they were waiting for me. Holy mackerel, they’d changed the day of the dinner and it was tonight, not tomorrow! I was now facing my second dinner in a row. I was too embarrassed to tell Maria I’d just been to dinner because I did not hear her tell me the night had changed, so I ignored the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach (or was that the truffles?)and came in to meet the other guest, a handsome Englishman who learned Italian from Maria. He was very proficient in Italian, to my eyes at least, and we all chatted away pleasantly, me contributing what I could to a conversation which was above my head. I understand probably 50% of what I was hearing, but my expressive language skills are not just as good, so I my utterances are a combination of Italian and English, with an occasional German word slipped in by mistake. Fortunately, my dining companions were tolerant.

I did my best to ask for small portions and to eat what I could, wishing desperately I had bought that pair of waist expansion jeans, while ignoring the menacing rumbling noise coming from my digestive region. I was happy to have gotten through the lasagna portion, and be moving onto the green salad, when I saw Maria slip in a large bowl of meatballs. The tender and garlicky meatballs were served in a rich red sauce and were the best meatballs I have ever had, but I could do no better that half the portion. Maria commented on how I didn’t eat much and I apologized and told her I hadn’t understood the change in days and had eaten in Arezzo. I just could not tell her I’d eaten just 15 minutes ago. It was a bit difficult for me to concentrate on the conversation as I was busy listening for ripping seams.

After dinner, we adjourned to the living room for a bit more wine and conversation which was interrupted by a ruckus coming from the downstairs apartment. The tenant had apparently had overindulged and was carrying on something ferocious. Poor Maria finally had to go down and calm things down. Needless to say that put a damper on the evening and I soon excused myself to go upstairs, take an antacid, and lay under a sun lamp in hopes the UV rays would aid in digestion like they do for crocodiles. Or maybe I can hibernate for an entire week!