Dinner was a casual affair of plastic plates and paper tablecloth, but the food! Antipasti was a platter heaped with salami, prosciutto, magnificent mozzarella balls, lima beans, cold cuts, and crusty bread. Groaning, we somehow forced down a series of delicious homemade pasta entrees with mushrooms, tomatoes, and boar sausage. For dessert Ricardo showed us a tiny bar known locally for its warm sugary cakes and the dirty name given said cakes.
The next dinner was an about-face from the previous night's rustic fare. My cousins' parents were treating Chrissy to dinner, so we chose a little seafood place nearby because it received fresh, pungent deliveries every day.
It was a meal of decadence--we told the flirtatious waiter to take good care of us, and he complied. Plate after plate of antipasti arrived, amazing tartare and carpaccio, grilled octopus, slivers of squid with fennel, and a frightening platter of massive raw shrimp crayfish, and shellfish. We did the best we could and were rewarded with a plate of lightly fried fish, then little scoops of creamy risotto with calamari and shrimp. Somehow several bottles of crisp white wine disappeared...then Prosecco...and dessert came.
Towers of fresh fruit surrounded cunningly-made sorbet bowls--walnut gelati was frozen in walnut shells, chestnut in chestnut shells, bitter orange sorbet in orange rind, and passionfruit in passionfruit shells. Of course Chrissy received a slab of tiramisu with a birthday candle in it, and we finished off with champagne and bittersweet chocolate. Reeling from drink and food, we made it home and counted it an excellent last night in Roma.
And now we've done a complete 360 and are sunning on the porch of our tiny cabin in the hills, watching "Dark Horse" Antonio rumble by on his 4-wheeler. When he turns off the engine, the countryside is silent but for the wind.
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