The love Pizza

[joseph engraver]

I am sure that you will enjoy this chapter from Franca's new cookbook--The Precious Ingredient--."

The Love Pizza

I made it a habit to go out for pizza once a week. Every Thursday, after work, my friend Fiorella and I would walk into the “Pizzeria Il Corral.” Both of us were in our late twenties, petite and slender, and always fashionably dressed. Blonde, blue eyed, with white porcelain skin, Fiorella created a stunning contrast to my chestnut brown eyes and hair, and slightly tanned complexion. Every time we entered the place, our presence was noted. Some friends would already be there, others would join us later, and we would all sit at a long wooden table. As more people came to join us we would just scoot over the wood bench and make space for everybody.
Both Fiorella and I were single, and the weekly diversion provided us with the opportunity to check out the guys. Thursdays became a very important part of my social life for a few years. Everybody who wanted to meet us knew where to find us.
And so it happened. One Thursday evening, Mimmo, a young man who had occasionally joined us at the table, came in with an older companion, sat at our table, and demanded everybody’s attention. We all quieted down and looked with curiosity at this new person sitting next to Mimmo. He had not said a word and everybody had ignored him.
“I want everybody to meet this man. He has just joined the Engraving School. He is too old, and I think he is crazy.”
“ The crazy man” was sitting opposite me and as Mimmo ended his speech, I looked directly into his beautiful blue eyes and in their depth, I saw what nobody else had seen;
there was goodness and sadness in them. This was a man with a past that he was trying to leave behind and strangely, I did not feel threatened by him. I also realized that he was not a mute; he did not know a word of Italian. He was from the United States of America. This man was not crazy. This man was in pain.
Everybody returned to their noisy conversation and I asked the stranger to move next to me so I did not have to shout at him to be heard. He very promptly accepted my invitation and was very happy to be able to have a fluent conversation in his native language. He started to relax and joined in the pizza feast with the rest of the group.
Mimmo had planned this meeting with me for some time, the stranger told me. “I know a girl who speaks very good English, I will take you where she hangs out, but we have to wait until Thursday…”
By the end of the evening, all of us came to know that the name of the “Americano” was Joseph, and that was his only name. Here is a man over forty with only one name, starting to learn a new profession in a foreign country, and with very little money. No wonder everybody thinks he is crazy!!!
I left the Pizzeria with my friend Fiorella, waived goodbye to everybody, since the day after I was off on a business trip to the Canary Islands. I told Joseph I would see him again when I returned in a couple of weeks. As he stood up to reciprocate my greeting, I could see he was not very tall, just a few inches taller than me, and rather stocky. His brownish hair was starting to thin but I thought of him as a rather attractive man. His handshake was firm and his smile was honest. I liked that.
The Thursday I returned to “Il Corral”, Joseph was not there. I met him by chance one day and gave him a ride. He was limping, and that was why he had not showed up at the Pizzeria. His cowboy boots were chaffing his heels raw; he could hardly make it to school every day. His boots were the only pair he had and could not afford to buy another. I offered to pick him up at his hotel the next Thursday. Instead of taking him to the Pizzeria, we stopped at a shoe shop on the way.
I had decided to buy him a pair of plain tennis shoes. It was a small and inexpensive present, but for anybody who walks four miles a day, it was the greatest gift.
Joseph reciprocated the gift with a beautiful rose. It is still as beautiful today as it was then.""
Have a wonderful day and keep to the sunny side of life J.

[Peter]

Reading your book was great Joseph, and reading about meeting Franca from her perspective was VERY interesting. Thanks

Is her "cookbook" a cookbook or a novel?

Hope all is well in your part of Mexico.

Peter

[joseph engraver]

Peter,
It is amazing how different she and I think. Franca's cook book "The precious Ingredient"is, an autobiographical short story,and selections of recipes with a mediterranian flair.It is intended to aid the reader in succesfufully putting together a dinner party. I am the one who gets to eat all the experiments,like my book it is self-published.
Have a great day
Joseph

[tundratrekers@mtaonline.n]

Thanks for sharing.God Bless,mike

[AndrosCreations]

That was intriguing... it left me wanting to read more.

[theresamarieus]

Please tell me where to buy Franca's book. I look forward to trying her recipes. What a wonderful way tell a story, through experiences and recipes. How interesting to see the compliment of your book.

[joseph engraver]

Originally Posted by theresamarieus

Please tell me where to buy Franca's book. I look forward to trying her recipes. What a wonderful way tell a story, through experiences and recipes. How interesting to see the compliment of your book.

Thank you for asking.Franca will be very pleased.You can contact her at: franca_facchetti@hotmail.com
Have a great day!