My entries are a little mixed up these days because we were senza tetto, well not literally homeless but certainly without a semi-permanent roof for the last 10 days of our sojourn. So now I backtrack to the evening before our departure for Barcelona. We had been invited to Kikka Comellini’s home for a dinner in piedi. Her mother, Alessandra Gotti (Italian women keep their maiden names) did the cooking while Kikka herself did the baking. I apologize for not having any pictures of the party but things were packed away for our trip, including my camera. Included are pictures of Kikka and her parents at our place in Roma. Without visuals, I will do my best to describe for you this very special party.
First of all, this was our second BIG party in a Roman home. There were perhaps 10 other people in attendance besides the Comellini family and us. Everybody spoke at least some English and some spoke very good English. And everyone who thought they couldn’t speak English very well spoke much better English than we speak Italian.
Kikka picked us up at the end of the Via Giulia at exactly the same spot that Davide and Diane had picked us up several days earlier. She drove us to her home on what I think is the southwest side of Roma. Her father greeted us with an appertif and Kikka wanted a martini. Incidentally, I’m under the impression that James Bond and Americans prefer their martinis drier than Italians. We were also served dried spicy maize (you know, corn) and potato chips. Then everyone started to arrive.
There is a definite difference between a stand-up buffet and an in piedi dinner. Both are casual and frequently you find the diners standing, hence the name “on foot.” But in American buffet lines all of the dinner food is laid out at once. There may be more than one venue for it but there it is for all to see; often it’s spread out in a linear fashion. Alessandra’s dinner was different in that it was sequential. She brought out one dish at a time which was served on disposable plates. The plates were personally handed out by Alessandra or Kikka just as wedding cake is served at weddings. When everyone finished a course the plates were collected and discarded. We got clean plates with each course.
While in Italy we have had the pleasure of dining at various homes and as the guests of Davide and Diane in a restaurant. All of these dining experiences, while as diverse as a two-year old’s birthday party or Sardinian restaurant cuisine, share one common feature: you don’t know what is coming next or how much of it there will be—you only know that at the end of the meal you won’t feel like moving for a week. This sequential quality of the meals naturally embodies an element of surprise. In fact, I think Italian hosts relish their roles in creating and prolonging the string of surprises.
I wish that I could relate to you the entire menu but after being on the move and a couple of sleepless nights I can only offer you an impression of the meal. We were told how various foods were regional and from what part of Italy they came. The savory dishes included two pizzas, a variety of delicious and somewhat spicy salamis, a selection of cheeses accompanied by three different sauces, one of which was a sweet-tart onion compote, a huge half-wheel of parmesan (or was it pecorino romano?), lasagna, and turkey. Now I’m sure that I’ve omitted several other items, scusi, Alessandra, but I think you can imagine what this superb meal was like.
But the meal wasn’t finished. Kikka, an architecture student at Roma Tre and the daughter of Alessandra Gotti and Fabio Comellini, made two delicious tortes. One was a fabulous apple torte—very moist and just the right amount of sweetness. The other was a torte with chocolate. Yummy good. And like any good design student, Kikka finished the tortes with a perfect sprinkling of powdered sugar. A+ for both content and presentation!
That was our wonderful evening. I wish you could have met everybody and shared the food with us. Oh, one more thing. The Italians are just the warmest and most hospitable people. It’s an evening like the one I’ve just described that makes it so hard to leave Roma.
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