two/three weeks in between blogs is too long, i know…but i started work last week, and everything’s been happening so fast!

first off: a word on my NEW JOB!  it’s WONDERFUL!  i absolutely love it.  love it love it love it.  i work for  a private english school in downtown udine, and as much as i would love to pump yall full of details i know that blogging most anything about an employer/coworkers/company is a major no-no.  therefore i will only say that i am happy, energetic and motivated in my work, i love the atmosphere and the people, and i feel like the luckiest duck that ever quacked getting to go to work in a city as beautiful as udine.

second: a word on the first month of married life (here i can pump as many details as i want, har har).  i give it all two very enthusiastic thumbs up!  not a day has gone by when i haven’t thought, uttered, gushed or even yelled out loud, “thank god i found this man!  and thank god i married him!  what an angel!”  he’s awesome.  i’m happy.  all said and done, i think i’m quite possibly the happiest i’ve ever been in my life.

ok, wedding recap…let’s see…first some photos…

one of the rooms in the courthouse where we were married

daddy and brother

getting ready for the big day

cousin james, sister quinn

carly, one of my oldest, truest bluest friends, and her husband seth

my mama and my mother-in-law

all the “fratelli”- the siblings: diego, matteo…grant, quinn

the reception was held at the one-and-only porchis (vino e spuntino), which was approriate for a number of reason, not the least of which was because it was where we first met.  i was on edge heading over there because, as i said, as of 7pm the evening before it looked like someone’s garage- all dusty and loaded with boxes.  fabio closes porchis for the months of january and february to take a vacation and do some other work- pig and wine oriented- to get ready for the spring.  since our wedding fell during the period when porchis was closed it meant that there was no problem securing a private saturday night party, but it also meant that fabio and his girlfriend simona were out of town the three weeks prior to the wedding.  also- i found out later- some boys around town (not knowing that the wedding was to take place there) had played a practical joke on fabio wherein they hid (i’m not sure i understood completely, possibly) dead snake carcasses (redundant?) inside all of the giant barrels that serve as tables inside (surely i must have misunderstood…).  the plan was that they would just, like, rot for two months so that when fabio returned (they presumed in march) and opened the doors of porchis for the first time (actually taking place two days before the wedding…) the place would smell like…well like it was full of carcasses.

boys are weird, but i don’t have time to go into that.

the point is, instead of spending the days before the wedding preparing, poor fabio was searching high and low for the cause of the stench and trying to ventilate porchis by any means possible so that when i arrived to decorate i wouldn’t scream and faint.

so riding over to the reception i was braced for the worst…

which was silly…

i should have known, of course…i should have had more faith, obviously…that i would not be let down.

porchis looked great, cuter than i’d ever seen it, cozy and sparkly and lovely.

porchis is a pretty small place, so we had invited 40 or our closest family and friends to eat all afternoon, and another 30 guests to come around 7pm for drinks and chaos.

the menu was as follows:

we kicked off the celebration with an aperitif (prosecco or spritz aperol) and

The Most Amazing Thing Ever, otherwise known as Prosciutto Cotto nel Pane, or Pig Thigh Cooked Inside Bread.

 i think the perfect quote to sum up everyone’s reaction while fabio sliced into it, piping hot, steaming, the air perfumed with the scent of sweet pork, came from gillian, who said, breathlessly, dreamily but with enthusiasm,

“i want to eat the bread!”

our guests munched on this, as well as prosciutto crudo (D’Osvaldo, don’t you know!), pickled radicchio (delicious, made in-house), olives, etc…

then the first courses began to come out.

1) pasticcio di radicchio (or, radicchio lasagna)

2) orzotto con salsiccia e porro (orzotto is like risotto except made with barley instead of rice, cooked with sausage and leeks)

3) bleks con noce (bleks is a typical cormonese pasta, this time served with a sauce of crushed nuts and sage)

then we took a little break and danced and played…my sister quinn set the bread basket on her table on fire…gillian began to clog…my friend nadia climbed onto the bar and forced me up there as well…

then the second courses began to come out:

1) lo stinko di maiale con le patate (roasted pork shins and potatoes- the most pleasurable crowd pleasure known to man, according to anyone who’s ever had it cooked right, which it was)

2) la lonza cotto nel latte e i piselli (pork cooked in milk, which sounds weird but was quite delicious, served with the best peas i think any of us had ever eaten.  there was a lot of conversation about those peas)

and then i think there was something else?  maybe salad or vegetables?  i don’t rally remember, the sight of food made my head spin by this point so i tried to ignore it.

once lunch/dinner was done, it was about 7pm and time for the party to start!  this was initiated with the classic italian celebratory tradition of…

slicing off the top of a giant Franciacorta (fancy prosecco in layman’s terms) bottle with a giant sword!  i wasn’t aware that we were going to be doing this, so when fabio randomly handed me a sword that weighed as much as a golden retriever and was as long as my thigh i was a little confused.

my brother-in-law matteo gave me a quick lesson on the art of prosecco bottle slicing (“just let the sword slide…it’ll feel it’s own way…and pop!”)

i got it on the first try!  as did FL, and quinn, who was given the third giant bottle to open as a prize for being a wonderful sister.

then we played a weird game wherein FL held another giant bottle between his legs sort of like a…well, you get the idea.  i was then blindfolded and positioned with my back to him and the sword in my left hand.  quinn had to guide me (“back, back, left, down…” etc) to the bottle.  using my left hand i had to swing the sword in a rather awkward motion and pop the top.  every time i missed, the bottle was inched further and further…upwards.  it was strange, but fun, and took me about 8 tries.

once all the fanciacorta was finished, fabio came through with another crowd pleaser…

this supposed “tradition” was a little…brutal for my tastes, and had all the americans in the room thinking once and for all that i had married into a society of brutes.

the tradition was this:

I had to stand on a chair in front of FL with a big saw taped to my hand.  it was taped in such a way that when i sawed to the left and to the right, the palm of my hand would slap sweet FL’s face.

i still am not quite sure what this was supposed to symbolize, and i managed to fake-slap him and get his tie sawed off after about ten minutes of utter confusion and me crying, “oh, honey, i’m so sorry!  why am i hitting you?  i don’t understand!”

once the tie was sawed, it was cute into about 20 pieces, and the guests “bought” pieces…the money they “bought” the pieces with (however much they wanted to “pay”- 10 euro, 50, 100…) was stuffed into a jar, and the jar was given to us at the end of the night.

the tie paid for itself, i’ll say that.

after the tie-cutting/face-slapping ordeal, mistakenly thinking that the weirdness for the evening had climaxed, i grabbed a glass of franciacorta and sat down to relax.

davide came right up and told me to stay seated, because my “surprise” had arrived.

this worried me a little, but i was intrigued none the less.  ”a pony,” i thought hopefully.

then entered:

fabian riz.

local legend, recording artist, poet, author, musician, hobo.

i was speechless when i first saw him, which was fine, because davide did all the talking.

“seeing as how the bride, ormai, is more friulano then any of us,” he said, “i thought it only appropriate that our local hero, fabian riz, christen this union between friuli and america with a little performance.”

fabian riz busted out his harmonica, and proceeded to wail and grunt his way through half an hour of classic friulano hits, as well as some of his own tracks, accompanied on drums (bongos) by his faithful sidekick, kavey, anarchist.

weirdness had reached a new level, and i could not stop laughing.

“ok, fine.  this is fine,” i thought, when two of fabian riz’ homeless groupies wandered in the backdoor and helped themselves to a glass of prosecco.

the crowd was eating it up.  mom was trapped in a corner, fabian riz singing directly into her face, as she grinned and clapped and lapped up this rare gem of a cultural experience.  my cousin james’ mouth was wide open the entire time, and my brother clapped his hands and roared with laughter.

“ah!  so your surprise was, davide hired a homeless man to perform at your wedding!  i would have been disappointed with anything less.”

yes, i am proud to say it was all rather appropriate for an eleanor-pierpaolo wedding.

after fabian riz had decided it was time to take break and drink some (more) grappa, i took the opportunity to crank up my own playlist, and the dancing began.

we partied well into the night, drinking prosecco and snacking on left-over orzotto and prosciutto, and once the last of the guests had gone, FL, fabio, billy kunzler and i took a moment of pause to look porchis over.

it looked like a glitter and champagne bomb had gone off, and i considered the entire event to be a roaring success.

my dutiful, wonderful (and sober) brother-in-law diego had waited patiently till the end of the party to give the loving couple a ride home, but we had other ideas.

we had him drive us (+ the amazing billy) to another local bar, where we ordered one last bottle of celebratory franciacorta, a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches, and talked until the birds started to chirp.

finally, about 3am, FL and i returned home to bosc di sot, where we fell asleep in each others arms, exhausted, happy and…married.

it’s hard to start writing again after so long…i’ve got to figure out a good place to start.

how about with…

THE WEDDING!

i will recount…

The crew from My Side was as follows:

my amazing mama and my amazing (and as FL generously puts it, “particular”) papa

my weirdo, witty, handsome little brother, grant, and my spicy, beautiful, spunky little sis, quinn

my bestest buddy/cousin, James, and my adventurous, darling cousin, Claudia

my gorgeous, dearest friend Carly, and her sweet husband, Seth

my wonderful friend, Gillian

an old exchange student of my family’s/as good as a member of our family, the hilarious, the infamous, billy

we were a rag-tag team for sure, and the combination worked flawlessly.

friday night was the rehearsal dinner.  FL and I had gone a week in advance to the home of some family friends who own a restaurant on the Italian/Slovenian border and put together a menu for the event.

here’s what we ate:

antipasti:  afftati, a selection of their made-in-house cured meats, candied cherries, goat cheese, breads and olives

primi:  gnocchi with butter, sage and nutmeg

a traditional Cormonese soup of which i forget the name…but it had onions, beans, a hearty broth and was perfect for a winter evening

secondi:  mixed grill, with sausages, cotechino, veal stuffed with prosciutto and cheese

contorno:  polenta, various gilled vegetables, insalata mista

dolci:  various amazing cakes and crepes

The restaurant is situated on top of a hill over looking Cormons and Collio, and upon arrival the wind was strong enough to make us fear for our lives.  We huddled together and shivered into the restaurant, where we were led to our own private dining room.

i was already a complete mess, held together purely by my bones and my skin, because a) carly and seth had been scheduled to arrive at noon that day and…had not.  up until 7pm i didn’t know where on earth they were, whether they had made their flight, whether there had been a plane crash, whether they were lost in italy or kidnapped or…who knew.  finally got a phone call from carly explaining that the man at the train ticket booth had mistaken her request for tickets to “Cormons” as a request for tickets to “Como”, so they were gonna be about 12 hours late.  poor dears, but at least they were alive.  and b) i had spent the morning decorating half of porchis with roses and confetti and other valentine’s day love-themed bobbles (my father refers to me as a “magpie: a bird who likes shiny things”), and when i returned to finish decorating the other half of porchis at 6pm i found that the place was still freezing cold, filthy, chairs stacked all over the place, just…NOT.  READY.  FOR.  A.  WEDDING. and the “bridezilla”, if you will, who i was so trying to keep at bay just like…reared her head and i dissolved into a state of panic.

so this was what was going on when i applied my lipstick with shaking hand and dressed myself for dinner.

Our party having, in the typical American fashion, arrived early, there was a classic 5 minute scene of complete and utter chaos re: where to sit.

we couldn’t figure out who went where…should all of us sit on one end of the table, and leave the other half for the Italians?  should FL and i sit across from each other or next to each other?  should we disperse ourselves, american-italian-american-italian, or should we all take one side of the table and face the other half of our group?

we were all hopping up and running around and “you go there, no go there”-ing and “oh my god, just sit down!”-ing and my heart was beating out of my chest and my hands were beginning to break out in splotches.  this was the first time the two entire families had met, and i was finding it a little hard to breath.

once FL’s family arrived, however, i found that there was really no need to be nervous.  language barrier and all the two families and our closest friends managed to make jovial, loving, energetic conversation.

at one point my father and FL’s father were making barnyard animal noises and sketching things out on napkins.  grant learned the friulano word for “fart”.

it went great, and as i squeezed FL’s hand and took cautious sips of the delicious house wine and hugged with relief carly and seth who managed to make it to the dinner right at the tail end, i felt my pulse begin to slow and my breathing return to normal.  i was happy, truly, and felt utterly and completely loved, my two worlds finally, officially combined.

FL woke the next morning, and dressed silently.  he was going to go get ready at his parent’s house, and meet me at the courthouse at noon.

he kissed me goodbye and said, “well, don’t try any funny business…i’ve already had all the stables in cormons lock up their horses today so you can’t pull a Runaway Bride.  and remember, piccola, it’s just me today.  i’ll always be me.”

those sweet words ringing in my ears, i pulled myself out of bed on my wedding day, and went to open the shutters.

the sight was just breathtaking.  outside in the courtyard an arch had been mounted over the front gate.  it was covered with crepe paper, balloons and ribbon, and from the center hung a huge wooden heart, bright red, reading, “Viva Gli Sposi”.  some friends of FL’s had come in the night and decorated, and suddenly i was giddy and love drunk.  i popped a bottle of pink spumante, made myself a little mimosa, and drew a hot bath.

Gillian came up to the bathroom a little while later, and together we did our make-up, talked about life, and generally kept each other company and any nerves at bay.

She was the photographer for the day, as her iphone camera skills are off the charts, so while we waited for Carly and Seth to get ready we had ourselves a little photoshoot.  i am so grateful for the beautiful photos she took.

the procession to the court house was surreal.  there i was in my mink and my fabulous red shoes, surrounded by my closest friends and family…people were popping out of their shops to look at us, people were stopping in their tracks to whistle and wave.

when we got to the main piazza, it was packed.  i zeroed in on FL and it was like a love punch to my heart.

he was dashing.  he was gorgeous.  he was happy, beaming, zeroed in on me.

(he was also wearing a bizarre orange and wool coat circa 1970′s of his father’s, but i forgave him because he is such a BABE no matter what, and also it was below freezing)

at least 60 people came to the civil ceremony, which surprised me as i had no idea beforehand what it would be like.  i thought it would be just us and a handful of family signing papers, but it turned out to be singularly the best experience of my life.

there was so much love, support, joyful tears, encouragement and happiness packed into that gorgeous room, i wanted to bottle it all up, keep it on my person, like an elixir for any future doubts, fears or blues.

in my eyes the whole event was shimmering and golden, but, as i said…i was love drunk.

the mayor of Cormons officiated, and he led us through the ceremony…do we promise this and that and all good things…then quinn came up and gave us our rings…and then he said we were man and wife…and then we kissed for what felt like an eternity.  and when we stopped kissing i said, “busemi di corse, amore”, and he kissed me again.

then it was time for our “testimoni”, or our “best men”, basically, to do their part…we each had to chose someone to vouch for us, to sign their names and take an oath on our behalf, to shoulder some of the responsibilities and promise to take care of us as a couple and to promise to the community to do what they can to see we remain a happy, healthy couple.

FL’s testimonio was Pic, his best friend.  mine was davide, who, since my sister couldn’t do it (the person has to speak italian) was my most obvious, best choice.  davide’s my best friend here, and i love him, and he is just wild about me.  he said me asking him to be my testimonio was one of the greatest honors of his life.  he was proud.

he cried during the ceremony and didn’t even try to hide it.

and when it was all over, the mayor made a little speech and said how happy he was and how happy cormons was and offered us an amazing bottle of wine on behalf of the community and then…

all hell broke loose.

it felt like papparazzi.  FL and I posed for about a million photos, with our siblings, with out best men, with our parents, with whoever…there were flash bulbs going off from all angles and in none of the photos are we all looking at the same camera.  it was madness, and i was full of joy.

kisses on a hundred cheeks.  sparkling wine.  bouquet of roses.  the people from the shops around the piazza came out and threw rice and gave us hugs.  we were led into the enoteca di cormons and served Franciacorta.

FL never let go of my hand.

and then…once a million kisses had been bestowed and a million hands squeezed in good faith and a sparkling glass of delicious franciacorta had been sipped by all…

we hopped into the Fiat and sped off the the reception…

to be continued…

Joyous day!

not only is my internet finally up and running full speed after two weeks of hard battle (we switched providers- go COOP!)

but the guys came and refilled our gas tank (we’ve been without for the past 48 hours, which means i’ve been able to see my breath during meals, haven’t been able to bathe, and had to wear socks to bed which i hate to do), so now we’re warm and toasty and clean

and, the IKEA guys came today with our brand spanking new couch!

so, living room almost complete.  just need some new curtains, a few photos hung, and we’re in business.

i got back to italy over two weeks ago, and i apologize for the delay in writing, but it takes me a little while to get my bearings here.  jet-lag is a state of mind as well as a physical setback, but it is something that i give into fully and whole-heartedly.  my inherent laziness makes sleeping whenever i feel like it and being awake whenever i feel like it just delicious.

i told my mom right before i left atlanta that i didn’t plan on even setting eyes on FL’s family for the first week or so of my return, and i was true to my word.  sounds weird, but once i’ve been in the US, soaking up the familiar and speaking nothing but my native tongue, i need a bit of time to transition, mentally as much as emotionally.

i believe i spent the first week soaking in the tub (i.e. using up all of the gas), kissing on FL, crouching on the bathroom floor experiencing moments of blind panic about the Impending Wedding, having long talks with FL about said I.W. (always the same issues, discussed and reexamined and hammered out flat…ironically, a new word i learned this first week back was “conciliate”, “placare” in italian, which is exactly what FL was forced to do to yours truly time and time again), staring dreamily out my bathroom window at the starry night, and sleeping.

i believe i spent the second week exercising like a mad woman, being totally content and excited about I.W., visiting with (what is soon to be my) family and friends, standing with my hands on my hips staring at the dust collecting all over the living room and trying to come up with a plan of attack, and sleeping.

and then that brings me to where i am now: thawing out, chilling out, full of new “plans of attack”, thighs sore from running, stomach full of the last of my completely homemade lasagna (i made the pasta, the ragu’ and the beschamel), fire roaring in the fireplace, mind swirling like smoke around the idea for my novel that came to me in a blinding flash this morning at 4am while i lay wide-awake, shivering against a peaceful, snoring FL.

things i know today:

1) FL is going to take excellent care of me

2) the only real risk to myself is myself

3) i need a heroine for my book, and i’m hoping she ends up to being the heroine for my life.  in fact, i hope she ends up being me.

4) i need to cut out the bullshit and start putting on clothes strait away in the morning so as not to be caught in my nightgown, hair askew, at 11am by my future brother-in-law who’s been up for hours already fishing or building wagons or whatever the hell it is he does, cause that’s getting embarrassing.  but, really, people should call before they stop by.

the wedding is two weeks from tomorrow!  my friend nadia totally freaked me out the other day…

we sat on her couch, watching her precious 3 year old daughter sing along to blues clues in italian and discussing wedding preparations.

she was just flabbergasted that i had not reserved a “beauty artist” to come and do my hair and make-up the morning of.

“but everyone will be looking at you, all day!  you have to be perfect!”

i threw up a little in my mouth.

also, apparently i have to have tiny gifts for everyone called “bonboniere” and must- positively must- attach a tulle packet filled with exactly five pieces of “confetti”, which is not the same as american confetti (harmless paper), but are instead rock-hard chocolate covered almonds weighing in at about a kilo each.

ha ha, before realizing that we have two different ideas of “confetti”, i told FL that my mom had purchased “confetti guns” to shoot at the wedding.  FL’s face was priceless.

“that’s extremely dangerous,” he cried, “porchis is all windows!”

we’re going into town to have our wedding rings inscribed this evening.  mine will say, “busemi di corse”, which means “kiss me now” in friulano, and FL’s will say, “fucking porcupine”.

there are stories behind both of these precious quotes, but i think for now i’ll just leave yall wondering.

ha.

a dear reader asked if i could give some background to this wuuuuuuuv story of mine, and lord knows i like nothing better than the opprotunity to blush and blab about my darling FL…

but guess what?

i’ve already done it!

and since until i write my book i won’t be re-writing (or at least editing and spell checking) this tale of mine, i’ll just give yall some links to the posts that documented a romance.

here‘s where i first left for italy: 23, starry-eyed, knowing only the word “dove”

here‘s where i first arrived in friuli TOTALLY confused and alone (but met my darling original-italian-hero simone who made it all better!)

here‘s where i moved to CORMONS…all starlight and argentinians (??)

here‘s where i met the love of my life (but didn’t know he was the love of my life, only that he a B-U-ti-ful!)

and then there’s 4 months worth of me falling slowly and steadily in love but not knowing it until…

my time in cormons comes to a close.  and we both think we’ll never see each other again.  and we both pretend to be ok with that.  and i fake-stoicly go to Piemonte to work on the cheese farm and just, like, break and cry and herd goats with tears crusted to my cheeks and my stomach feels like lead for weeks and all i can think is fuuuuuuuuck i just lost the best man ever…

and then you know what happened??

read and find out.

as for details of getting hitched in italy: unfortunately, i was advised by a lawyer to NOT talk about it (like, in an on-line-public sort of way) until it is a DONE DEAL, because things are so so precarious.  once this shit show is over, though, i will lay it all out.  all of it.  i’ll be a pro at this wacko bureaucratic nonsense by the time i get through jumping these mad hoops and i will be so thrilled to help out anyone who needs it (but who can help me??  help!).

wish us luck!

am back in Georgia for the holiday season, currently recovering from both Thanksgiving and a rather severe bout of strep throat.

I won’t be blogging as regularly, but if anything good comes up I’ll post it.

I return to Friuli in January, hopefully with all the necessary marriage papers in hand.

Official Italian Wedding Date: February 11th!

LA LA LA must find a dress!

HAPPY CHRISTMASTIME, Y’ALL!

the days are just whizzing by.

once upon a time it was thursday, and i went to Porchis to photograph fabio’s newly remodeled Land Rover.

then it was friday and FL and I went into Udine for dinner with some friends.  We ate moroccan food and drank pink spumante and then went out on the town like 22 year olds, danced and scampered through the cobblestone streets.

saturday morning we were hurting, but giggling non-stop.  there was an inexplicable jar of plum marmalade in my purse, source unknown.

we spent the day shopping for gifts for people back home, and somehow ended up at the mall in udine, where FL surprised me with his intent:

to get me a proper engagement ring.

there were at least 20 different jewelry stores, each with hundreds of rings to look at.  pearls, rubies, gold, silver, pink, sparkle, twist, design.  was overwhelming.  my head was swimming, and FL looked a little green.  i couldn’t tell if we were still icky from the night before, or because the idea of picking out our symbol of forever under hot florescent lights with Maroon 5 blasting in the background and some snotty sales assistant glaring at us just seemed so wrong.

after what seemed like an eternity, I tugged on his sleeve.

“hey,” i whispered (because what i was about to say seemed like something that needed to be whispered), “let’s go back to cormons.  to that little jewelry store in the piazza.  it’s safe there, and true, and i have a feeling they’ll have just what we’re looking for.”

FL looked so relieved i kissed him, and we fled the commercial center of udine for the comfort of sweet cormons.

in the car it came to me clear as the river Natisone.  what ring we needed, what ring was right for us.  somewhere along the line we had made the decision in that unspoken way that true-lovers do that this ring wasn’t just for me, it was for us.  i’d wear it, cause i look better in things that sparkle, but it’d be ours, jointly.

so and we didn’t want something flashy.  no show piece.  we didn’t want something “in vogue” or “youthful”- because styles become outdated and we will not always be so youthful.  we wanted something classic, honest, simple, beautiful and timeless.  we wanted something that was so delicate that it would become a part of our bodies, just meld into our skin, become another bone, another beating heart.  we wanted a ring that meant something, that represented our promise, unbreakable and white, elegance and beauty sans pomp and circumstance.

it was dark and cold outside when we entered the store, and the windows were fogged.  we were the only customers, and the sales lady smiled warmly.  she’s known FL his whole life, and was the one who sold him the necklace he gave me our first christmas together, when he first told me he loved me.

her eyes were twinkling and she said, “and what are you here for this time?”

FL just smiled and I smiled and she came around the counter and kissed our cheeks.

“auguri!”

the sales assistant began bringing out boxes of rings.  there weren’t that many of them like in the other stores but they were all of exceptional quality, each one unique but solid.

FL and I saw it at the same time.  i gasped, and he pointed.  there, in the top right corner of the very smallest box was the very smallest ring.  practically only a shimmer, but it caught my eye more than any of the others.

a tiny white gold band, a fleck of diamond.  it was perfect.

I slipped it on my finger and said, “oh, amore, what do you think of this one?  isn’t it just it?”

and his eyes got misty and he started to say something but his voice choked so he just nodded and then my eyes got misty and i said, in a voice also choked with tears…

“well then, here it is.”

to celebrate we went to La Subida or, more specifically, La Trattoria dalla Subida, one of the most famous restaurants in Friuli, and certainly the best in Collio (which is really saying something).

we showed up at 8:30 on a saturday night, sweating bullets that there wouldn’t be a spot for us.  the place is usually packed, a reservations-weeks-in-advance type of place, and we’ve never had the courage to bite the bullet and call ahead.  i’ve been begging and pleading FL to take me there for so long, but he always gets this terrified expression on his face, like he’s afraid if we go eat there he’ll have to sell the house afterwards or something (fine meals don’t come cheap, sometimes).  this evening, however, with our ring nestled in it’s little velvet box in the breast pocket of his jacket against his heart, he was feeling invincible, or maybe just too happy to care anymore, and we were ready for a hell of a meal.

the owner greeted us at the door, and led us into a room where a fire blazed in the amazing two-sided fireplace dividing the dining room from the front hall.  he smiled and seemed genuinely pleased to see us, and said, “reservations?”

when we said no, he smiled even wider.

“well, then, the handsome couple will just have to sit here.”

he led us over to a romantically isolated, gorgeously set, alluringly comfortable table right night to the fireplace, wedged between two giant windows that overlook the front garden and a bookshelf full of maddeningly intriguing cookbooks.

my heart just melted, and we took our seats on rocking chairs, cushioned with fluffy enbroidered pillows.

a glass of spumante and a complimentary tartlet of chestnut cream and locally-produced fois gras to kick things off?  yes, please!

we munched on our (also complimentary and just awesome-beyond-words) frico-on-a-stick while we looked over the creative and elegantly designed menu.

this is what we ordered (we ordered really well!):

a bottle of Cabernet, Carlo di Praids, from a vineyard right by our house

an antipasto of venison tartar with chilled persimmon, some sort of bizarre emulsified olive oil/lemon sauce, watercress and vanilla salt.  perfection.

fresh pasta with all of this season’s bounty: candied apples, walnuts, wild mixed mushrooms, valerian, pomegranate seeds and wild boar, topped with aged montasio.  the combination was autumn in a mouthful.

bleks, a traditional fresh friulian pasta, with caramelized onions, roasted red peppers and a rabbit ragu’ in an oven-crisped bread bowl.  balmy, savory, delicious.

to clean the pallet, complimentary sorbetto, made with the house specialty: accetto di uva (grape vinegar).  FL almost convulsed, he loved this so much.

venison tenderloin, with a sauce of red wine, wild berries and cloves, accompanied by candied pears.  amazing, amazing, amazing.

a selection of local cheeses, all but one cow’s milk, with a variety of ages.  served with house-made honey and a selection of autumnal-fruit marmalades.  just…so unbelievable.  i love cheese.

and for dessert…nothing.  we opted out.  we were too stuffed, just couldn’t handle it.  figured a grappa would be better if we planned on ever eventually removing ourselves from the restaurant.  so they brought us a grappa.  but also…

delicious tiny cookies and petits fours, oh my!  what joy!

and the sweetest little jars of vanilla and chocolate custard filled with kiwi, pomegranate seeds and persimmon slices that you ever did see

coffee, grappa, the works.  and we were beat.  we were thrilled, we were full of both love and food from another incredible meal together, we were ready to go home and fall into bed…

i think sometimes that what is most important for me in this life, what i love to do most, is to sit down and share a meal, a snack, a glass of wine, a cup of good coffee, with someone i love.  to have friends and family that love to eat, to cook, to taste, to experience, to have people i love to be with sit around the table with me and do what is (in my opinion at least) the most wonderful thing that a person can do (i.e. eat!  does this make me weird?) is just the tops…

…and having a lover and a BEST FRIEND and a fiance and a FUTURE HUSBAND to do this with is just…

well i’m grateful.  heart-swellingly grateful.