Free The Food of Love by Anthony Capella Page B

think I’ve ever had a night quite like that before.’
    “Me neither.’ She remembered the taste of that zabaione. ‘It
    was fantastic’ She blushed a little.
    ‘When can I see you again?’
    ‘Well, I guess I’m free on Saturday.’
    He sighed. ‘Unfortunately Saturday is our busiest night. But I

can get Sunday off
    ‘OK. Would you like to go to a movie?’
    ‘No, I’d like to cook for you,’ Tommaso said. ‘Something really
    special.’
    Just the sound of his voice was enough to make her blush
    again. ‘OK. I’ll look forward to it. Ciao, Tommaso.’
    ‘Ciao for now, Laura.’
     
    ‘Seafood,’ Tommaso hissed.
    ‘What?’ Bruno said. He was busy making a series of tiny
    meringues stuffed with soft chestnut paste and hard nuggets of
    chopped fresh pistachio.
    ‘Next time, we’ll give Laura frutti di mare? Tommaso, who
    was in the middle of service, pushed a pile of dirty bowls into the sink and dashed back to the pass, where a neat line of plated dishes waited to be carried into the restaurant. ‘First, it will make her horny, and second, once she’s had a few oysters in her mouth
    she’s hardly likely to object to playing trombone with my belino for dessert,’ he called gleefully as he spun out of the kitchen doors into the restaurant, a tray held over his head in one hand like the swirl of a matador’s cape.
    Bruno opened his mouth. He wanted to point out that the art
    of culinary seduction required a little more subtlety than that, but his friend had already gone.
     
    Although the centre of Rome is only twelve miles from the sea,
    the excitements of the city have always tended to distract its inhabbitants from the pleasures of the coast. Eels from the Tiber are a
    traditional Roman delicacy - pan-cooked with soft onions, garlic, chilli, tomatoes and white wine - but a much more common dish
    is baccala, preserved salt-cured cod, which is fried in thin strips, then simmered in a tomato sauce flavoured with anchovies, pine
    nuts and raisins. For really good, fresh fish you are better off heading either up or down the coast, towards Civitavecchia to the
    north or Gaeta to the south.
    ‘I don’t understand,’ Tommaso said when Bruno explained all
    this to him the next day. ‘Am I meant to go all the way to
    Civitavecchia just to bring back some fish?’
    “I thought perhaps, instead of bringing the seafood to Laura,
    you could take Laura to the seafood,’ Bruno suggested.
    Tommaso’s brow furrowed. ‘No, I still don’t get it. How will
    that work?’
    ‘You could borrow Gennaro’s van and drive her to the sea.
    You could even do some surfing, if you go far enough. Then you
    just build a charcoal grill on the beach.’
    Tommaso looked a little shifty. ‘But that will mean I have to
    cook.’
    ‘Yes, but grilled fish?’
    ‘My grilled fish,’ Tommaso said sadly, ‘won’t be as good as your grilled fish. You have to come too.’ He brightened. “I know. I’ll pretend to be giving you instructions, so it’ll look as though
    you’re preparing the fish under my guidance.’ Tommaso nodded
    enthusiastically. He rather liked the idea of talking to Bruno like a chef. After all, he’d watched enough of them over the years, giving their underlings hell. ‘And, ah, afterwards … well, you’ll just have to go for a walk or something.’
    ‘I’m not sure—’ Bruno began.
    “I like it,’ Tommaso said. ‘We’ll have a romantic day at the seaside, just the three of us. Well, two of us. Well, three. You know
    what I mean.’
    Bruno opened his mouth to protest. The thought of playing
    gooseberry for a whole day when he could be back in his kitchen, working on new recipes, didn’t appeal at all.
    ‘Oh, come on,’ Tomasso said impatiently. ‘What else are you
    doing this weekend? Nothing. Besides, Laura’s got a roommate,
    another American. Apparently she’s as hot as hell. I’ll get her to come along too. It’ll be a double date. You just have to remember to pretend that I’m