Bookend Meals to Fondly Remember

“Chocolate, s’il vous plaît,” I said, pointing at the dessert menu, at what I thought was ice cream, at crème glacée.“

You mean chocolat?”the waiter said, his tone mocking.

My wife and I were at a charming café in Nice, France, on a recent dream trip celebrating our 40th wedding anniversary, yet our waiter was anything but charming. To call him surly would be far too kind.

“Oui,” I said, trying my best to parrot his pronunciation, “Chocolat.”

“Chocolat,” he sneered again with emphasized inflection and a dismissive eye roll.

Cheers to a wonderful 40th anniversary trip…

My mind flashed back a few days, back to when we were in Olympia, Greece, and our tour guide, a lovely woman named Nicolette, taught me a less-than-lovely Greek word our bus driver had barked out in frustration at a driver who displeased him. I was tempted to repeat those two displeasing syllables now at our waiter, but instead bit my tongue until the chocolat ice cream could soothe it.

Happily, that rudeness and margherita pizza that tasted like it came frozen in a box, were the exception on our 12-day travels from Venice to Barcelona. From a delicious assortment of tapas al fresco while protected under a canopy beneath rainy skies to velvety gelato at a seaside table outdoors where it was impossible to tell which was forget-me-not bluer, the sky or the water, we had many meals to remember for the right reasons.

Two, however, stand out above the rest as all-time unforgettable meals. Remarkably, they were the very first and last dinners of our trip.

The lunch of tapas we enjoyed in Barcelona were simply amazing!

We arrived at our hotel in Venice after a long night, long day, and long evening of travel at nearly 9 o’clock and promptly went looking for a place to dine. Serendipitously, an Italian restaurantwas literally next door.

Carpaccio Trattoria is too small to be described as cozy, but we were too weary to look further. Without any wait, and with the temperature in the mid-70s, we were given a table for two on the waterfront patio with a front-row view of the scenic Grand Canal.

The ambiance could not have been lovelier with lapping water serving as soft music and an apricot-hued moon balanced on the steeple of the landmark Palladian Church directly across the waterway as if it were a basketball spinning on a Harlem Globetrotter’s index finger.

Maria, whose appearance was as pleasant as her manner, showed us to our table; took our orders; and served us as well. We learned over the course of the meal that she is also the owner, pasta chef, and bakes all of the desserts which she proudly noted she always samples. The latter was nearly impossible to believe for the dessert menu was not at all slim and yet Maria very much was – a positive testament to the walking lifestyle here.

Since boyhood, spaghetti has been my favorite meal and the gold standard has always been my mom’s. For the past 30 years, I have wistfully pined for her magical sauce and handmade pasta.

God bless Maria. Her tender-yet-firm pasta and simple sauce that was almost as sweet as chocolat – “The secret magic is the fresh local tomatoes,” she confided – was not the equal of my mom’s, impossibly it surpassed it. I wish you could have tasted it.

We passed on dessert, but Maria would have no such nonsense. Learning this was our anniversary eve, she brought a cannoli and a slice of triple-chocolate cake as her gifts to us. Both were heaven on a plate.

Next week: The second bookend meal to long remember.

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Essay copyrights Woody Woodburn

Woody writes a weekly column for The Ventura County Star and can be contacted at WoodyWriter@gmail.com. Follow him on Twitter and Instagram at @woodywoodburn. His SIGNED books are available at www.WoodyWoodburn.com.

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