Buon Faccia

My week has been a long one.  Jetlag is something that hits hard, at least me and now my nose has insisted on running. 

“No, no!” I want to say.  “Not now!  I don’t want to be sick NOW!”  But I suppose it is just payment to a body that was told it was moving to Italy in just two weeks.  It has served me well.  I am not complaining.  Instead, I will try to listen and sit down for awhile.

‘It feels good to be back,’ I want to whisper to the air itself.   As if it is a secret, I am not sure I should share.  Will Italy become suddenly arrogant in my admiration?

I cooked dinner for my birthday, my sister’s sausage pasta recipe. It reminds me of her, and the rest of my family that can whip up a Friday family dinner for 15 without pained expressions on their faces.  I usually provide the entertainment and the dishwashing. I am not known to be a cook.

“How much!?  How much for 7 people!?”  I frantically typed to Tracey and there was relief when she knew without thinking. 

“You should be here!”  I said to both her and Amy. “It doesn’t feel right without you.” 

I tied the apron my aunt gave me for Christmas, around my waist, the one that she told me was my Grandmother’s.

“That’s hot, girl!”  Jenna said when entering. 

“It was my Grandmother’s! And I think she might have been hot!”  I said honestly. 

Sara brought Matteo, who brought flowers and immediately came to survey the cooking, which was not quite done when they arrived.  This is not a position of comfort, an American cooking pasta in front of an Italian. 

“What are you cooking here?”  he said, a warm smile crossing his face.

Wishing he would just go back toward the rest of the guests who were eating the stracciatella cheese I had bought or the bresaola I had placed on the wooden cutting board. But pronouncing either of those words wrong, felt worse than evaluating my sauce, so I stuttered in my native language and smiled, calling on the ghost of my Grandmother for help. 

“Well,” he said, “It has a good face!" he said as he bent closer to the sauce, "Buon faccia!  Do you have this expression in English? Buon faccia?”

“I don’t think so…” I said, “But I like it…Bone foCH-A!” 

“Yes, a good face!... It looks very nice, Rebecca!”