Hey! Everyone's in the mood for Italian. The tv sound system that keeps turning itself on and off has just blinked on again and started powering out: "Santa Lucia" (so of course, I sing along "Pasta fisula ... ". Because it was warm, the cook got into a bottle of Domaine du Clarck chardonnay, which was cellared incorrectly by the previous owners, standing up, and so tasted like marsala and was a shocking brown when decanted in the hopes of breathing some life into it. (I was glad I had hidden my Moscato di Asti upstairs, as I will save that for another fine warm day at the villa). And the sound system on the tv boom box is playing some other music now, stuck on some channel, I know not which because there's a huge stack of metal boxes with pulsing lights and each box has a different number,
the top one has a plutonium blue circle in blue and says 115,
the one in the middle is 25 in LED red and is solid sturdy crimson
and third one down is analog yellow with a little grid on the right and it blinks down hours and seconds by the demical point.
And that chardonnay! Damn! Once a Premium from Monterey County, it really was, with the owner's phone number in gold print on every label, but Domain du Clarck is terribly reminiscent of Chateau Clarke is it not (Le Baron Edmond von Rotheschild, onetime propriétaire of those fields), though one is white and one is red, still some confusion could arise in terms of name not domain. I'm really thinking of the good old days now. So the chardonnay went down the sink and now a Barolo from a Marcchesi's place will have do once it opens or has air forced into it from the vinturi.
(I pretended not to see the chauffeur and cook dancing together to a clarinet wailing "Ciribiribin" with gypsy swing jazzy strings, when I walked past. If only that damn jukebox would play something a little livelier, like "Funiculi", dinner might get to the table a little faster. This place ain't so bad, even for squatters like me. There are so many rooms I have been installed upstairs for more than 3 years and no one seems to know I'm here). So the anchovies were nice on the greens and the sausage a bit hot but perfectly sized small bits in a rather heavy Southern Italian red sauce, while the melange of spices was exquisite. Topped with hand ground parmesan. All served on the most colorful and festive dinnerware in the sun room. Over dinner, we discussed shoes.