When friends want to go out and party, you have no good excuse to say why you cannot join.
"What do you mean, you can't come out tonight? You don't have anything to do tomorrow!"
The whole I-need-to-be-fresh-and-look-for-a-job-tomorrow thing gets old, and Will's visiting amicos Italianos were not buying it. Naturally, the Italian lifestyle doesn't understand staying nights in when you could be out with good company: pasta, vino rosso and espresso. Capiche?
Our first night out, Vito "Corleone" made me an offer that I couldn't refuse. He told me that in exchange for my time to help practice their English, he and Antonio would take me out each night. What's a girl to do when two beautiful Italian men want to wine and dine her?
I did what every single girl in her right mind would do. I became Audrey Hepburn and went on a Roman holiday right here in NYC for the week.
Sunday started off with brunch at the Euro-cafe Pastis in Euro-meatpacking district with the Euro-men. That commenced the week of eating and drinking in excess. We continued to celebrate by dining at only Italian restaurants, of course.
Wednesday evening will definitely be one of the most notable dinners I've experienced. Not knowing who all was coming, I met Vito and Antonio at Bella Blu. Then suddenly our dinner companions arrived - a big Italian family that resides in Scarsdale, NY. It was as if the Godfather and his family had arrived because the entire restaurant staff greeted them as if it was the Don himself.
After all the double-cheek kissing and introductions, we sat down and then I realized I didn't speak Italian. Everyone was chatting loudly and talking across the table in their own Italian conversations, while I did my best to translate what I could.
As soon as we sat down, our table got the royal treatment. The waiters brought over giant trays of delicious appetizers: truffle and cheese focaccia, mozzarella and prosciutto, fried calamari, and the pièce de résistance: the ginormous seafood platter containing all of Triton's kingdom. And that was just the first course.
Even though I may have been lost in translation, at least I had amazing food to keep my mouth occupied. And the wine was always flowing. It was like there was a wine fairy, and every time a glass was about halfway full, the wine fairy magically appeared to refill. I think I'll put a bottle of wine under my pillow tonight and see if it's full tomorrow morning.
As we were waiting for our second courses to arrive and our stomachs to digest the Atlantic ocean we had just consumed, it came: the question that every non-Italian dreads when surrounded by Italians. "Are you Italian?"
I choked on my wine a little and found myself apologizing for not being of their blessed bloodline, but making up for it by saying how much I love Italy. That was good enough, and I was let in the circle of crust.
I figured to help me become more Italian, I would just keep drinking the wine. Somehow, it would have to have an effect on my ability to parle il Italiano. By the time dessert came, I was practically Italian, and Vito told me that I must come stay with him in Capri very soon. Okay, if I must; besides, it's rude to say no. In fact, he even offered to hire me if I want to move to Italy. I'll start packing my bags.
After dinner we all said our "ciao bellas" and I went back to being non-Italian.
We ended the week at Bagatelle Friday night, which is hardly a restaurant because it's so wild. The DJ spun the best mixes while patrons danced on their chairs alongside their waiters. Champagne bottles were popping and everyone seemed to be celebrating something, obviously not the recession. The only thing to remind me that I was, in fact, at a restaurant and not a club was the savory food that was set in front of us. Lobster ravioli, tuna tartare, and a 24oz steak split by 3.5 people were all very helpful clues that Bagatelle is also a dining establishment, not just a dance hall.
Banana splits topped with sparklers served in giant martini glasses flew over our heads all night, and for my dessert I chose a shot of chocolate-tequila chased with an espresso. To end their trip on the right note, we had a table at Euro-club Kiss & Fly.
Vito and Antonio are on a plane back to Southern Italy now, and it's back to reality for me. Arrevaderchi truffle pasta and lobster platters. Back to egg-white omlettes, turkey sandwiches and sugar-free Fudgesicles. It was fun while it lasted, my little Italian fantasy world.
The Italians and myself at Bella Blu.
Seafood splendor.
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