I’m starting to feel like a regular at the Aristide café in Manarola and, in fact, breakfast is something I look forward to every night as much for the food as for the experience. Sitting at my little table out front, I watch the people pass by and listen to the rolling r’s and long l’s of Italian floating along musically around me, punctuated softly by the clinks of spoons in espresso cups.
Unfortunately I revealed myself as
American the first day by ordering an omelet and though I like to blend and
adopt the local customs, old habits die hard. Coffee and a pastry might be how
the Italians start the day, but I need a bit more substance.
After breakfast, we (me, Seth and Marzia)
traveled to Monterosso by boat, which seemed the most appropriate way to get
there considering its reputation as a fisherman’s village – not to mention it
was a the perfect opportunity to get a seaside view of several other Cinque
Terre towns along the way.
Monterosso is larger than Manarola, with a
livelier atmosphere and evidence of Genovese influence in the way that some
buildings, including the church, have black and white marble stripes. The warm
weather called for a gelato, which we enjoyed as we wandered the streets on the
way to our next outing.
Could there be a better way to spend the
day than in a lemon grove with one of the locals? He led me around his land,
between the trees spotted with bright yellow citrus fruits, past his chicken
coop and basil garden. Along our walk he explained his passion for his work,
both in a restaurant in town and in the lemon grove. His jobs were inextricably
tied, in a traditional Italian manner; he tended to the lemons and brought them
into town where he used them to produce limoncino or to garnish a plate of fresh
fish.
After wandering through the lemon grove,
it was time for a much less pleasant task – preparing anchovies to be salted
and stored. A crate of dark, shimmering anchovies was set in front of me, their
wide eyes staring blankly at me. I was instructed to push my thumb into their
gill and, with a quick jerk, rip the head off, pulling the spine and organs out
with it. I’ve never done anything like this before and, though slightly
horrified, I was determined to give it my best.
I pretty much destroyed the first fish.
The splinter-like bones stabbed into my thumb and blood dripped all over the
table (most likely the fish’s, maybe mine too), but I had to get the first step
right before I could move on, so I tried again. Once I did this, I had to use
my thumbnail to slit the anchovy in half down its belly and then pick any bones
out of the flayed body. Not quite like baking cupcakes, but I managed to
prepare about 3, by which point my agile instructor had perfectly set out a
dozen. Needless to say, I way relieved when he told me it was time for dinner.
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