I may not be quite on the cusp of important international events, but tomorrow morning -- hideously early-- the daughter and I are off to Roma. We do now know if we will see the Holy Father. We do not know if anyone else will, either.
But we plan on having a good time. We are tagging along with the American Chesterton Society's annual pilgrimage, so DIH is happily anticipating a lot of wordplay. Along with a lot of pasta. BTE did you know that Italian pasta, I mean pasta cooked and served in Italy, has no carbohydrates? It's true.
We also plan on a run up to Castelgandolfo. We will leave the Pontiff Emeritus in peace, but instead make a beeline for the Ristorante Bucci. Mamma mia, that lady's cooking. I wonder if Benedict knows about the place. He should. It's just a stone's throw from the papal palace.
I wrote quite a bit about the Bucci in "Breakfast with the Pope." How they served a sauteed trout that I tried a hundred times to imitate back at home, but never could. How during peach season you could have peaches and biscotti and local wine and swear if you died at that moment you'd die happy.
The last time we were in Castelgandolfo the Bucci had changed a bit. The kitchen had been remodeled, it was three times the size of the old one, which was about the size of a powder room. But the same lady was in charge, and she was as wonderful as ever. She even let my daughter help her out in the kitchen as she gave her a short but unforgettable cooking lesson. "Cook with your nose," she said. We have never forgotten.
Yes I know, theres a ton of other things to love about Rome. And I love them, I really do.
But the Bucci? Beyond love. Absolute devotion.
p.s. will probably have limited internet access in Rome (staying at a really cheap pension). Will blog whenever possible.