Giacometti - Margheritas recipes for love

M argheritas furry/feathery tribe festively welcomed her home the way they always did, with a concert of howls, whistles, and mews over which Armandos loud voice could be heard.

Quiet, quiet, otherwise Italoll get his shotgun out!

Margherita smiled at her father. Giulia sends you a special hello...

Armandos eyes lit up. Is that what she said?

Those exact words, Margherita answered in amusement.

Did she say anything else about me?

To be honest, she was sort of busy with her two gentleman callers... she answered mischievously.

Armando pricked up his ears.

Gentleman callers? What gentleman callers?

Salvatore and Gualtiero. They reminded me of the wise men bearing gifts...

Armando made a face.

A ferret and a fishmonger, nothing to worry about...

But they certainly were trying their best, she teased him. You should have seen them!

They can forget it! Giulias too much for them to handle! Armando answered categorically.

But not for you, right? Margherita watched him carefully for his reaction. Armando, however, was a champion card player, and his poker face gave nothing away.

Margy was tempted to keep on teasing him when Artusis barking alerted them that they had a guest.

Can I come in? asked Matteo, knocking on the door.

Margherita let him in, reassuring poor Artusi, who raced over to have a sniff at the newcomer, after which, reassured, he went back to his nap.

Armando took advantage of Matteos arrival to take off.

Ill leave you kids alone, I have a couple of things I need to get done, he said, as he quickly went out the door.

Margherita couldnt help smiling in amusement. Something told her that Giulias farm would soon to be visited by yet another gentleman caller.

I have a brilliant idea. Matteos words distracted her from her thoughts. She turned toward her friend.

Your brilliant ideas usually lead to nothing but trouble, she remarked, smiling.

But Matteo wouldnt be put off. Not this time! He paused theatrically and said, Ive found you a job!

She looked at him in surprise.

Wow! In record time... and what sort of a job is it? Part-time secretary, salesgirl, bartender

None of those, he interrupted her. This is a job thats perfect for you. Youre going to be the chef for some rich guy who needs someone to organize power lunches and dinners from A to Z.

Margherita stared at him in amazement.

I was right when I said your ideas are dangerous! Where on earth did you get such an idea? Ive never worked as a chef, and I dont have any references.

Youre an amazing cook, Matteo said. And thats enough. Ill take care of the rest.

What do you mean youll take care of the rest? she asked, alarmed.

Simple. Well just say that in Rome you were a caterer and private events organizer.

But thats not true!

Only you and I know it isnt. You must have some friend willing to vouch for you, right? And anyway, I challenge anyone to deny youre a wizard in the kitchen.

Youre out of your mind! Wed be scamming them! she snapped. I dont do things like that!

Faced with Margheritas angry reaction, Matteos enthusiasm seemed to deflate. At which point the look on his face changed to that of someone beseeching her, and would have been a match even for Artusis best performance close to a table covered with food.

Look, Margy, theres nothing wrong here he began.

But she stopped him before he could continue. Theres nothing wrong with inventing fake references?

But we wouldnt be ripping anyone off! he replied adamantly. You are a great chef, theres no getting around it. And you need to work. So, as Machiavelli says...

... the end justifies the means! she finished sarcastically. No, Im sorry, I simply cant do it.

He moved closer to her and took her hand. He looked at the palm and pretended to examine it. And yet I see the future of a great chef here...

Margherita couldnt help smiling. That was always the way with Matteo: even when his ideas were on the dodgier side, she couldnt control herself the way she would have liked to, because every single time hed manage to make her laugh.

So can I take that as a yes? Matteo tried again, convinced that hed found a weak point in her defenses.

Its a no! Margherita answered, serious again. I dont feel like getting into hot water. Youre going to have to find a real chef for your client.

He looked at her adoringly. I dont know anyone whos better than you. And Im ready to put my reputation on the line to prove Im right.

Dont insist, and dont give me that sad-eyed look! she scolded him jokingly. I know you, you cant fool me!

Promise me youll give it some thought, please...

Matteo was ready to play his tenderness card, bring up the memories they shared, all the things theyd done together ever since their childhood days. Anything, as long as she didnt go away again. As long as he wouldnt lose her to the first city idiot passing through Roccafitta.

Come on, Margy. Im only asking you to think about it. You dont have to decide right away.

Matteo, I dont feel like it, I really dont. Margherita seemed determined not to go back on her decision. Ill find something else, youll see.

But what if she didnt? What if she missed the city? Even worse, what if she decided it was best if she went back to her husband? No, this time Matteo was ready. There wasnt going to be another Francesco. He was holding his trump card and he was ready to play it.

The road wound upward, climbing steadily along the slope of the hill with a series of turns. The Touareg handled each one smoothly, and the warm air tousled Carlas hair. For once, she wasnt concerned about ruining her perfect hairdo, and from behind her dark sunglasses she watched Nicola. Driving appeared to relax him, but, as always, he was watchful. The man never unwinds, she thought to herself. For an instant, a fleeting image of Nicola asleep in her arms, lost in slumber, vulnerable, crossed her mind, but Carla cast it aside, annoyed with herself for her childish daydreaming. What she appreciated the most about himbesides his money and his social standing, of coursewas his inexhaustible energy, the fact that he was like a ruthless warrior, and his total lack of sentimentality. We are so much alike, you and I, she thought, as she continued to observe his determined profile, made even more seductive by his stubbly chin. This was exactly why Carla had to pursue her aims without succumbing to the foolish mawkishness that would only get in the way of her plans. At that moment, Nicola steered the car into a clearing on the side of the road and stopped. Carla looked at him inquisitively.

I want you to see something. He opened the car door and got out.

She followed him. In spite of herself, for a instant she was charmed by the breathtaking beauty of the landscape. In the distance, the veiled and sparkling mist allowed a glimpse of the sea. The vegetation covering the hills seemed to be colored with the whole spectrum of greens, while in the valley below, the blinding expanse of yellow grain alternated with ocher patches of freshly plowed land. Nicola pointed to an area that was entirely covered by row upon row of perfectly symmetrical vines one next to another, bordered by a chestnut grove on one side and a fast-flowing river on the other.

Can you see that plot of land?

Carla nodded.

Its the largest one in the whole area. The only one that produces wine with DOCG status. This means that the state guarantees the wines origin, he continued. All thanks to the terroir which, according to my agronomists, is perfect for intensive cultivation. Which is exactly what we need to be able to increase production.