Now We Are Friends!

Often, travel to Italy or any other country in the world is an opportunity to indulge. Eating in restaurants, seeing the sights, and spending your budget on experiences where you are treated like royalty. Rarely in my opinion does our focus center on building relationships. Why? Because we have relationships at home, and something tells me that we want to escape that to some degree. Even less do we look for the opportunity to hear someone say the words “Now we are friends!” Francesco My Friend

This is not that kind of story. As a pastor, who is also a chef, believe me when I say that it would be easy to sink into that mindset. Getting away, disconnecting from expectation is something that I need. It’s incredibly difficult however, and I find myself craving the opportunity to dive into someone else’s story. Even Jesus needed time to Himself, but you can see that it was also impossible for Him not to be pulled aside by the opportunity to engage people in all of their honest, real and messy lives. How could He not? He found so much joy stepping into someone else’s life. I relate to that so much. And on this special trip with my family to the south of Italy, I especially related to the man I’m about to introduce you to.

A CHEF – A COOK – BUT REALLY A CHEF!

Let me tell you about a professor who is a chef but will only refer to himself as a cook. An amazing man, born out of the red dirt and olive groves of Matera in Basilicata Southern Italy. A man whose passion for peasants who till the ground and give us the very best produce resounds in the food he puts in front of you. Who would rather lose his own sense of taste than to see another fast food restaurant break ground.

This is Francesco. A man of the earth. A man of Matera. And a CHEF whose heart is bigger than the Italian meal he presented us as we traveled through Southern Italy. And that says a lot! It was with great honor, that we received an invite to dine with him in his humble apartment in Matera.

A FIRST COURSE

After Francesco welcomed us into his home, we began the evening by enjoying his roasted sweet Matera onions with herbed Gorgonzola, figs from the tree, sweet tomato passata, ricotta with pink peppercorn and caciocavallo cheese. The olive oil was the best Matera had to offer. Course One

But this first course wasn’t without him showing me around his kitchen, explaining his collections of balsamic, wine, beer and his mother’s jarred tomatoes. Most exciting to me was a pungent vial of what almost looked like soy sauce. As I took a sip from the small spoon he handed me, a burst of umami that almost fooled me into believing it WAS the Japanese condiment exploded on my palate. But it wasn’t Asian. It was anchovy. He told me about this liquid called colatura. A delicious experiment by ancient Roman fishermen meant to help them preserve anything else from the fish that they could, and add depth to any number of dishes. This was the equivalent of Asian fish sauce. But honestly? So much better.

Francesco explained how the fish are gutted, and then layered with salt in barrels for aging. After several months, a small hole in the bottom of the barrel is opened, and out comes the salty liquid, drop by precious drop. This will certainly be a weapon I’ll be tracking down to put in my culinary arsenal.

After enjoying a few moments of aperitivos with new friends, Francesco retreated to the kitchen again with my son Asher in tow. I followed behind, excited to catch more of the stories he’d be sure to gift us as he prepared this beautiful food.

A SECOND COURSE

The next course would be a tribute to the one dish most Americans think of when they imagine Italian food: spaghetti.

But please understand. You’ve never had spaghetti until you’ve had it prepared for you by an Italian in Italy in their home. It’s different. I’m sure that what you’ve had is good. Maybe authentic even. But different.

This dish is in honor of the produce of Matera. Simply, it was quality spaghetti that you could feel in the rough texture of every strand. Cut from bronze dyes as it should be. Followed by a very slow cooked tomato sauce, the skins having been peeled, with no base other than olive oil and garlic. Trust me – if you cook it long enough, it’s all this dish needs. The special addition and gift from Matera was the fagioli verdure – green beans!

“NOW WE PRAY”

Now We Pray When it was time to eat the dish, The Professor stirred the spaghetti into the sauce. And then he looked at me and said, “now! As my mother always says, it’s time to pray! You say one prayer, in order to give the pasta the time to marry with the sauce. Many times you eat sauce with spaghetti and you have two different tastes. But they have to be married! So we pray!”

His prayers are extremely effective. At plating time, he made one last addition. Beautiful stracciatella affumicata. Lightly smoked creamy mozzarella – but the wet and stretchy kind. It looks thick like milk, but as soon as you raise your spoon to add it to the dish, it pulls and stretches, like the most beautiful ballerina slowly warming up before the dance.

No pecorino or parmiggiano here. Just the stracciatella. How perfect.

The taste was enough to bring tears to my eyes. It wasn’t just delicious. This dish was telling the truth.

“I KNOW IT’S TOO MUCH!”

In truth, the thought of dessert was a bit unnerving. We had already eaten plenty. But Francesco removed that fear and planted a new one by arriving at the table with an entirely new course – eggplant parmiggiana. Not fried, but simply baked with more beautiful red sauce, fresh basil and finished with melted scamorzza. More smoke. Yes please.

While my stomach begged for mercy, my tastebuds screamed for more. Francesco was right when he said “I know, it’s too much! But you have to try!” Just keep doing you, Professor. These are the moments I live for.

After resting and talking about life with our new friends, sharing stories of what we all do when we’re not eating in broken Italian and English, Francesco said “now! For the dessert! My invention!”

“MY INVENTION!”

He led Asher back to the kitchen, and together they began laying out bowl after bowl of different ingredients for the dish. And like a master composer, he began layering them together to form this so-called invention of his. I asked him what it was called and he said that there was no English translation. The dish simply means The Cup Of The Big Pleasure.

Again – he cooks and speaks the truth.

The bottom layer was thick crumbled biscotti. Next came the diced peaches that must have been marinating in a complimentary liqueur, but without the intense sting of alcohol. The freshness and sweetness of the fruit still won the day. After this, it was freshly whipped cream with crumbled almonds. At last, the piece de resistance – homemade preserved amarena cherries. You could hire me to wash dishes at any restaurant and pay me in these cherries and I would be your lifelong servant.

Match this all together and welcome to what should be the official dessert of Matera – maybe even

all of Southern Italy. It was truly that good.

“NOW WE ARE FRIENDS”

At the end of the night, I did my best to give a strong statement of my gratitude and appreciation for the way Francesco had welcomed us into his world. With an enormous smile, he jumped from this chair, threw his arms around me and kissed me on both cheeks. I think I saw a tear in his eye as he said “now we are friends!!”

Now We Are Friends! This was an incredibly special moment. I hadn’t just been fed a meal. Francesco was welcoming me into his life. Into his culture. Into his story. There is no church service I’ve ever been a part of that could feel so holy. Relationship has a tendency to do that.

And there’s not much in my life that makes me happier than feeling the deep connection that takes place when the food is honest, sitting around a table with open hearts. I hope to be with Francesco again some day. The professor. The cook. But really? The chef!

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