After the dance is over

There has been entertainment almost every evening during August in the Cavea, just below the tennis/calcetto pitch. (That is five a side soccer, by the way.) Usually, the entertainment is over by midnight, and I have been tired and gone home. There would be a little music for dancing, but that was just a way of passing time until the food was ready.

And oh my, what food. I remember the first night, well, really, the first afternoon before the first night, when my neighbor Totò invited me to the neighborhood bar for a coffee, but half way there, we were stopped by Angelo, who was bringing three kilo of shrimp for the post entertainment food fest. We ended up cleaning the shrimp instead of having a coffee, which was just as well, as the beer we put in the freezer when we went into the storage shed was nice and cold when we finished. However, peeling all those shrimp reminded me of the all you can eat peel your own shrimp promotions at restuarants in the US in the 70's and 80's. The only difference is we were working with raw shrimp, and in the US, they had boiled or steamed shrimp, and the heads were already removed. Anyway, as we worked on the shrimp, so other folks worked on getting the sauce ready, and after the entertainment, pasta was dumped in boiling water, cooked, and served up with a wonderful red shrimp sauce. Oh my.

Every evening it was the same cast of characters getting the food ready. Whether it was sausage sandwiches, which Emilio lovingly took care of on the grill, or perhaps just water melon and a yellow melon that the Sicilians call Melon Yellow, the same group of folks always came down early to get things ready. I know for the sausage, first Mimo and I cut the rolls (taking out the soft, inner bready part out before declaring them ready to take in the fresh squeezed lemon juice and mayonnaise that would make for fitting Sicilian sausage sandwiches) and then while Emilio and Totò cut the sausage into sandwich size links, I put them together for eventual grilling. We ended up making enough for 288 sandwiches, which is, interestingly enough, both two gross and too gross.

Last night was the penultimate evening of entertainment. We watched the opening of Series A competition, as Juventus, fresh from being penalized into Series B last year for buying referees the previous season, spanked Livorno 5-1. It was a typical Italian spectator event, with everyone sitting quietly watching the game, occasionally praying after a close play, or suggesting that the referee was a cuckold after a bad call. Other than that, there was basically silence, without folks drinking beer, eating peanuts and popcorn and cracker jacks, or doing any of the other things one is used to watching a game in the states. Indeed, I was talking to one of the arbitrators when there is a problem between two teams, or a player and a team, and he said that they had talked about adding food and drink stands to the stadia in Italy, and had voted against it.

Anyway, following the game, as the water came to a boil, Emilio threw in the three giant (well, large, maybe 2 kilos each) octupi, and boiled them up with fresh lemon and some other spices. when they were done, two men worked at cutting them in pieces, and they disappeared very quickly. But they were heavan while they lasted. Just squeeze a bit of fresh lemon juice on them, and taste paradise. Wonderful.

So after many evenings of fine entertainment, and enough evenings of fine food as I could stand without going to sleep with my head in my plate, I salute the cooks. Bravo Bravo Bravo.