Aja Lee

Blog Schmog

The morning symphony initiates with the bells of the clock tower and the rooster clearing his throat. Together, like when you taste the marinara di mamma, you know you are truly in Italy. 
There is an art to living the Italians have and it is ever so addicting. 
There's a way in which you move about your day, not complaining or exclaiming the amount or type of things but more with a long string of treats and celebrations. The day begins with the gift, not chore or in some cases the abstaining of what we truly want to eat in the morning, but with the utter enjoyment of fresh briouche(in our case walked over fresh from the bar by livia in the early morning and left on the breakfast table. ). A large cafe with local milk, maybe a breakfast cake and assorted biscotti, the brioche can be chocolate fruit or creams inside, and it seems each time I think of this in the states I decide not to eat them for breakfast the next year- but each first morning in Italy I confidently, change my mind. 
But again back to the idea of the never ending cele rations of each hour of life here in Italy- it is truly a sight to behold in action, after breakfast happy and full, the mamma di casa starts on the washing for the day, preparing for lunch, scrolling out the table cloths from breakfast, gathering from the garden, feeding the chickens and checking for eggs, hiding shoes from the dog, running laundry and rugs in at the threat of summer thunderstorms like a human barometer and pretty much dancing from one meal to another with great skill and cheer until it is simply time to regenerate for the next beautiful day. 
If one sleeps in in Italy, the previous meal time will collide with the next and you will end up like me, choosing between both a brioche and a pasta at two different tables at the same time, this is quite perplexing to the rest of the diners and even though it seemed clear I was assumed to want the brioche at lunch time before moving on to pasta, I broke the expectation and had the pasta for breakfast, no regrets as I had been dreaming if the first pasta  all year. there's something about the pasta here where your stomach sort of melts into Italian mode, the appetite comes alive and everything falls into a sweet tomatoey calm- the stomach purrs and even seems to be speaking Italian words to me, like "ah yes we have arrived , nothing else to worry about now, mangia mi"
The dance continues like this all day, sprinkled with visitors and family coming in for meals or coffee breaks but this is the pattern of life, lots of talking lots of sharing laughing eating cooking clearing and cooking again, and you know what? Somehow it absolutely works like a charm. 
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