1
" Time passes, and as the hot midday sun and cool mountain nights alternately bake and freeze the blackened landscape of Vesuvius, something remarkable happens.
Gradually, the streams of cold lava are colonized by a lichen, stereocaulon vesuvianim. This lichen is so tiny that it is almost invisible to the naked eye, but as it grows, it turns the lava from black to silvery gray. Where the lichen has gone, other plants can follow- first mugwort, valerian, and Mediterranean scrub, but later ilex and birch trees, along with dozens of species of apricot.
Meanwhile, the clinkers and ash that covered the landscape like so much grubby gray snow are slowly, inexorably, working their way into the fields and the vineyards, crumbling as they do so, adding their richness to the thick black soil, and an incomparable flavor to tomatoes, zucchini, eggplants, fruit and all the other produce which grows there. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
2
" It was salty, it was sweet, it was fishy, it was liquor, it was like a deep breath of seaweedy air and a mouthful of sea spray all at once. He bit once, involuntarily, and felt the flavors in his mouth swell and burst like a wave. Before he knew what he had done he had swallowed, and then there was another sensation; another flavor, as the soft shapeless mass wriggled past the back of his throat, leaving a faint, cool aftertaste of brine.
He felt a sudden sense that nothing would be the same again. Eve in her garden had bitten an apple. James had eaten an oyster, sitting outside a tiny restaurant overlooking the sea by Sorrento. His undernourished heart swelled in the Italian sunshine like a ripening fig and he laughed out loud. With a great flood of gratitude he realized that he was having the time of his life. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
4
" He dipped his fork into the layers of eggplant and cheese. Moments later, it seemed to detonate in his mouth. The pasta, he now realized, had simply been a curtain raiser, carbohydrate to take the edge off his hunger, but this new dish was something else, teasing his appetite awake again, the intensity of the flavors bringing to life taste buds he had never even known existed. The cheese tasted so completely of cheese, the eggplant so rich and earthy, almost smoky; the herbs so full of flavor, requiring only a mouthful of wine to finish them off... He paused reverently and drank, then dug again with his fork.
The secondo was followed by a simple dessert of sliced pears baked with honey and rosemary. The flesh of the fruit looked as crisp and white as something Michelangelo might have carved with, but when he touched his spoon to it, it turned out to be as meltingly soft as ice cream. Putting it in his mouth, he was at first aware only of a wonderful, unfamiliar taste, a cascade of flavors which gradually broke itself down into its constituent parts. There was the sweetness of the honey, along with a faint floral scent from the abundant Vesuviani blossom on which the bees had fed. Then came the heady, sunshine-filled fragrance of the herbs, and only after that, the sharp tang of the fruit itself.
By the time the pears were eaten, both jugs of wine had been emptied too. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
5
" Most of the ingredients she cooked with came from the tiny farm immediately behind the restaurant. It was so small that the Pertinis could shout from one end of it to another, but the richness of the soil meant that it supported a wealth of vegetables, including tomatoes, zucchini, black cabbage, eggplant and several species that were unique to the region, including bitter friarielli and fragrant asfodelo. There was also a small black boar called Garibaldi, who despite his diminutive size impregnated his harem of four larger wives with extraordinary diligence; an ancient olive tree through which a couple of vines meandered; a chicken or two; and the Pertinis' pride and joy, Priscilla and Pupetta, the two water buffalo, who grazed on a patch of terraced pasture no bigger than a tennis court. The milk they produced was porcelain white, and after hours of work each day it produced just two or three mozzarelle, each one weighing around two pounds- but what mozzarelle: soft and faintly grassy, like the sweet steamy breath of the bufale themselves.
As well as mozzarella, the buffalo milk was crafted into various other specialties. Ciliègine were small cherry-shaped balls for salads, while bocconcini were droplet-shaped, for wrapping in slices of soft prosciutto ham. Trecce, tresses, were woven into plaits, served with Amalfi lemons and tender sprouting broccoli. Mozzarella affumicata was lightly smoked and brown in color, while scamorza was smoked over a smoldering layer of pecan shells until it was as dark and rich as a cup of strong espresso. When there was surplus milk they even made a hard cheese, ricotta salata di bufala, which was salted and slightly fruity, perfect for grating over roasted vegetables. But the cheese the Pertinis were best known for was their burrata, a tiny sack of the finest, freshest mozzarella, filled with thick buffalo cream and wrapped in asphodel leaves. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
6
" The restaurant owner brought them wine, pale and golden and cool. There were just four oysters each, and when they were all gone they turned their attention to the cecinella. After the soft shapeless texture of the oysters these were almost the opposite: hard, crunchy skeletons whose flavor was all on the outside, a crisp bite of garlic and peperone that dissolved to nothing in your mouth. The ricci, or sea urchins, were another taste again, salty and exotic and rich. It was hard to believe that he had once thought they could be an austerity measure. After that they were brought without being asked a dish of baby octopus, cooked with tomatoes and wine mixed with the rich, gamey ink of a squid.
For dessert the owner brought them two peaches. Their skins were wrinkled and almost bruised, but the flesh, when James cut into it with his knife, was unspoiled and perfectly ripe, so dark it was almost black. He was about to put a slice into his mouth when Livia stopped him.
"Not like that. This is how we eat peaches here."
She cut a chunk from the peach into her wine, then held the glass to his lips. He took it, tipping the wine and fruit together into his mouth. It was a delicious, sensual cascade of sensations, the sweet wine and the sweet peach rolling around his mouth before finally, he had to bite it, releasing the fruit's sugary juices. It was like the oyster all over again, a completely undreamt-of experience, and one that he found stirringly sexual, in some strange way that he couldn't have defined. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
7
" After a couple of days, James spotted something strange about the food they were eating.
"It's an odd thing," he remarked to Jumbo, "but every single meal seems to contain at least one dish that's red, green and white. Yesterday it was that wonderful salad- tomatoes, basil and that white mozzarella stuff. Today it was some sort of herby green paste on white pasta, with tomatoes on the side."
Jumbo screwed up his face. "What's so odd about that?"
"They're the colors of the Italian flag."
"So they are." Jumbo thought some more. "Probably a coincidence, though. After all, they eat a lot of tomatoes, so the red's there from the start."
"Probably," James agreed.
But later that afternoon he made an excuse to drop by the kitchen, and peer over Livia's shoulder at what she was preparing for dinner. "What are these?" he asked casually.
"Pomodori ripieni con formaggio caprino ed erba cipollina," she said tersely. "Tomatoes stuffed with goat's cheese and chives."
Ignoring the fact that his mouth was watering, he said, "They're the same colors as your flag."
Livia affected to notice this for the first time. "So they are. How strange."
"As one of the dishes at lunch. In fact, every meal you've cooked us has had something similar. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
8
" Certain things, he learnt, always go well together. Balsamic vinegar and citrus fruit was just one example. Parsley and onion was another, as was chicory and pork, or radicchio and pancetta. Seafood was a natural partner for zucchini, mozzarella went with lemon, and although tomatoes went with almost anything, they had a special affinity with anchovies, basil or oregano.
"So it's a question of opposites attracting?" he asked.
"Not exactly." She struggled to explain. "Anchovies and tomatoes aren't opposites, really, just complementary. One is sharp, one savory; one is fresh, the other preserved; one lacks salt, while the other has salt in abundance... it's a question of making up for the other one's deficiencies, so that when you combine them you don't make a new taste, but bring out the natural flavors each already has. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
9
" Do you have any anchovies?" she asked.
Enzo's mother looked as if she was about to explode. "Anchovies?"
In Naples, anchovies were only added to tomatoes if you were making puttanesca, the sauce traditionally associated with prostitutes.
"Please. If you have some," Livia said demurely.
Quartilla appeared to be about to say something else, but then she shrugged and fetched a small jar of anchovies from a cupboard.
The sauce Livia made was not puttanesca, but like puttanesca it was powerful and fiery. It was also remarkably simple, a celebration of the flavor of its main ingredients. She tipped the anchovies, together with their oil, into a pan, and added three crushed cloves of garlic and a generous spoonful of peperoncino flakes. When the anchovies and garlic had dissolved into a paste, she put in plenty of sieved tomatoes, to which she added a small amount of vinegar. The mixture simmered sluggishly, spitting little blobs of red sauce high into the air, like a pan full of lava. After three minutes Livia dropped a few torn basil leaves into the sauce. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
10
" A little farther on she managed to find some zucchini she was happy with, and back in the kitchen he watched as she sorted them into two piles, one of wrist-thick vegetables with veined orange flowers at the end, the other of star-shaped open flowers.
"These are pretty," he remarked, picking up one of the blooms.
"They taste good too."
"You eat the flowers?" he said, surprised.
"Of course. We have them stuffed with mozzarella, then dipped in a little batter and fried. But only the male flowers. The female ones are too soft."
"I hadn't realized," he said, taking one and tucking it behind her ear, "that flowers could be male and female. Let alone edible."
"Everything is male and female. And everything is edible. You just need to remember to cook them differently."
"In England we say, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."
"How very stupid. A goose has a light taste, so you would cook it in a gentle white wine sauce, perhaps with a little tarragon or oregano. But a gander has a strong, gamey flavor. It needs rich tastes: red wine, perhaps, or mushrooms. It's the same with a gallina, a hen, and a pollastrello, a cock." She glanced sideways at him. "If the English try to cook a pollastrello and a gallinathe same way, it explains a lot."
"Such as?" he asked, curious. But she was busy with her cooking, and only rolled her eyes at him as if the answer were too obvious to mention. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
11
" Livia placed a ball of wet newspaper on the table, and proceeded to unwrap it. "What's that?" he asked.
"Mozzarella cheese, of course. It's like the burrata you had before, but different."
"It's soft," he said, pushing his fork into the piece she passed him.
"You've never eaten mozzarella?" she said incredulously.
"In England, we only have three cheeses," he explained. "Cheddar, Stilton and Wensleydale."
"Now you're making fun of me," she sniffed.
"Not at all." He put some of the milky white cheese into his mouth. "Oh," he said. "That's rather good, isn't it?" It was so soft it melted in his mouth, but the taste was explosive- creamy, and cuddy, and faintly tart all at once. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
12
" It was Colomba who had coined the nickname stecchetto, little toothpick, for Livia, because she was so scrawny. She had filled out a little since her sixteenth birthday, but she would never have Colomba's curves.
Then she saw Enzo was getting up from his place and coming toward her. She turned away. He did not stop, but as he passed her he whispered, "I was right the first time, when I called you an angel. Because surely only an angel could cook like that."
"Save your flattery for whoever wins the beauty contest," she said. But she flushed with pleasure despite herself, and when she saw Colomba Farelli looking at her with daggers in her eyes, it was nice to be able to smile sweetly in return. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
13
" Livia had burnt the onions. And not just any onions, but the ones in her famous sugo alla genovese, that wonderful sauce of reduced onions, flavored with beef stock, celery and chopped parsley, that together with pummarola and ragù form the holy trinity of Neapolitan pasta sauces. To make a true genovese the onions have to be cooked for around five hours over the gentlest heat, stirring occasionally to prevent them from sticking to the bottom of the pan and splashing them with water whenever they look like they are drying out. Onions are remarkable things, for cooked like this they lose almost all their familiar oniony taste and become an intensely sweet, aromatic jam, yet if a single piece happens to burn in the cooking, the acrid taste will permeate the whole dish. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
14
" Livia could have made a sugo blindfold- she had been making it almost every day for years. The only difficulty was, there were as many different kinds of sugo as there were days in a month. There was the everyday version, which might be no more than a handful of ripe tomatoes squashed with the tip of a knife to release the juices, then quickly fried in oil. There was the classic version, in which the tomatoes were simmered along with some garlic and onions until they had reduced to a thick, pulpy stew. Then there was a richer version, in which pieces of meat were cooked for several hours to extract all the flavor, and so on all the way up to ragù del guardaporte, the gatekeeper's sauce, so called because it required someone to sit by it all day, adding little splashes of water to stop the rolls of meat stuffed with parsley, garlic and cheese from drying out. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
15
" A little farther on she managed to find some zucchini she was happy with, and back in the kitchen he watched as she sorted them into two piles, one of wrist-thick vegetables with veined orange flowers at the end, the other of star-shaped open flowers.
"These are pretty," he remarked, picking up one of the blooms.
"They taste good too."
"You eat the flowers?" he said, surprised.
"Of course. We have them stuffed with mozzarella, then dipped in a little batter and fried. But only the male flowers. The female ones are too soft."
"I hadn't realized," he said, taking one and tucking it behind her ear, "that flowers could be male and female. Let alone edible."
"Everything is male and female. And everything is edible. You just need to remember to cook them differently."
"In England we say, what's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander."
"How very stupid. A goose has a light taste, so you would cook it in a gentle white wine sauce, perhaps with a little tarragon or oregano. But a gander has a strong, gamey flavor. It needs rich tastes: red wine, perhaps, or mushrooms. It's the same with a gallina, a hen, and a pollastrello, a cock." She glanced sideways at him. "If the English try to cook a pollastrello and a gallina the same way, it explains a lot."
"Such as?" he asked, curious. But she was busy with her cooking, and only rolled her eyes at him as if the answer were too obvious to mention. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
17
" For four years she had been cobbling together odds and ends, just in order to put on the table something that resembled food. But now, thanks to Angelo and his black market contacts, she was cooking with real ingredients, and in the sort of quantities she had previously only dreamed of. A whole fresh tuna, a wicker basket of San Marzano tomatoes, a crate of anchovies, great handfuls of parsley... Dozens of new potatoes, still encrusted with the black volcanic earth of Campania, their flesh golden as egg yolks... A pale wheel of parmesan, big as a truck tire... A sack full of bloodred watermelons... An armful of mint, its leaves so dark green they were almost black... All afternoon and all evening she chopped and baked, and by the time darkness fell she had pulled together a feast that even she was proud of. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
18
" It never ceased to surprise him how many of her dishes were cooked without meat. Her pasta sauces often consisted of just one or two ingredients, such as garlic and oil, or grated lemon zest and cream. Many more were based on a vegetable, with peperone, anchovy or cheese providing a subtle kick. Often it didn't occur to him that he hadn't eaten meat until after the meal was over. His very favorite dish was her melanzane alla parmigiana, but it was only as his palate became more trained that he realized this, too, contained nothing more substantial than dense chunks of eggplant. As for gravy, he had never missed it once.
He mentioned this to her, and she laughed. "We've never had a lot of meat to spare in Campania. Even before the war, it was expensive. So we had to learn to use our ingenuity. "
― Anthony Capella , The Wedding Officer: A Novel of Culinary Seduction
