C for K

The pasta in this restaurant is SO good, that my glasses are steaming up as I eat it!

 

Which is awkward, as I can no longer see the person I am talking to.

 

The pasta is a home-made ali-olio, using a quinoa garlic/parsley spaghetti, many cloves of freshly crushed garlic, hot spice, freshly ground pepper, rock salt, cooked in olive oil and butter and topped with freshly grated Rodez cheese. 

 

Yum!

 

I’m not sure if it’s the spice or the heat of the cooking that is condensing my lenses, but the lack of visibility prevents me from knowing if the person speaking to me is a guest or an employee of the restaurant.

 

I’m pretty certain that she is a she and identifies with such a polarity of ideas.

 

If this person is employed by the restaurant, then they would be the person who delivered the pasta to my table in this small, family Trattoria in the north–eastern suburb of Padova. In that case they were looking pretty dam sharp.

 

If the person I’m speaking to is a guest, then they must be sitting at this table with me, sharing this euphoria of wine, food and later, song – we will soon start – and therefore is the sharpest of the lot.

 

So it doesn’t matter.

 

I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!