Angles Singing with Lemoncello

Flickr_-_cyclonebill_-_Kartoffelpizza_med_rosmarinpestoAs it did in Paris and London, our time in Rome flew by quickly. The fast pace of the city totally disoriented my sense of time. It was like blasting into a wild party kicking into full gear. Chaos, yet a sense of order.

We decided to celebrate our last night by having dinner out. A charming restaurant across from our hotel had been calling our name for several days, so we decided give it a chance on this special night. Inside we found heavy ceiling beams and walls of stone. We entered just as a chef was sliding a pizza into a wood-fired oven. It smelled so good.

The owner snapped his fingers and suddenly two others appeared and slid three tables together to accommodate our table of seven. The menu was extensive with Italian dishes I’d never seen before. I knew I should try something new, but that pizza looked so good.

“Hey dad, pass the remote.” Alex’s comment prompted laughter from the other two. “

“Funny kids. Real funny, just keep laughing.” Alex was referring to a tense moment I’d experienced at the Vatican. We found the security at the entrance was more elaborate than the airport. While emptying my pockets I felt something that made the blood drain from my face. Along with my wallet and sunglasses, I placed a TV remote in the bucket. Earlier that morning, the kids had been fighting over it in the hotel room, so I grabbed it from them. With all the excitement of Lee’s pickpocket, I completely forgot about it. Why the hell would a man be carrying a remote? I waited for somebody to slap a cuff on my wrist, but thankfully none of the guards gave a damn. As I passed through I counted one more thing to love about Rome.

My pizza had thinly sliced potatoes cooked by the fat of pancetta and was topped with freshly chopped rosemary. I took a bite and heard a choir of angels sing. Literally – they were sitting at the table next to us. They weren’t exactly angels, but a singing group that decided to break out in song and fill the restaurant with sweetest sound I’d ever heard.

Yes, I was going to miss this town.

After dessert the owner brought over seven little glasses and placed one in front of each of us. He produced yellow colored liquor. “Lemoncello” he said, as he poured. “On the house.” Lee picked up his glass and toasted the generous man and his staff. This cold drink tasted as good as lemon meringue pie. More importantly, It was a gift, so I enjoyed it even more.

NEXT: Erupting into Sorrento


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