Read Online Home to Italy by Peter Pezzelli - Free Book Online

was dragging home to dinner another hungry straggler from his pack of cycling cronies. The extra plate was already set on the table by the time the two walked through the door.
    Besides Filomena, Luca’s son, Costanzo, was there with his wife, Maria, and their two teenage children, Gianni and Vittoria. Only Luca’s daughter, Lucrezia, who had gone to visit friends in Pescara, was missing. When Luca first introduced Peppi, all of them, Filomena included, gaped at the newcomer as if they could not believe their eyes.
    â€œYou are Peppi?” said Gianni with great respect. “The bicycle racer?”
    â€œI don’t believe it,” said his sister. “All these years I thought that you were just someone Papa Luca made up in his imagination.”
    â€œI’ve been gone a long time,” said Peppi with a shrug. “It all seems like a dream even to me.”
    â€œVittoria, Gianni, stop staring at him!” exclaimed Filomena. “Go sit down at the table. You too, Costanzo.”
    â€œBut they’re right,” laughed Costanzo. “It’s almost like we’re meeting a ghost. My father’s talked about you for so many years.”
    â€œThat’s what friends are for,” said Luca happily. “Now, Peppi, let’s get you some dry clothes and then we can all eat.”
    The long, perfectly choreographed meal that followed surpassed even Luca’s lofty predictions. When everyone finally gathered around the dinner table, Luca poured the wine while Filomena brought out for appetizers a platter of bruschetta and another of fried olives stuffed with prosciutto. Soon after came the pasta alla chitarra, thin strands of pasta tossed in a savory sauce of pancetta, chopped tomatoes, olive oil, and cheese. Il secondo piatto consisted of tripe, the lining of the cow’s stomach, boiled and served in a zesty tomato sauce. There is no more powerful reminder of days past than the aroma and flavors of the food one loves. Everything Peppi had tasted to that point, every morsel, had evoked some memory of his youth, but the tripe in particular pleased him for it had been one of his mother’s specialties. He made a point of telling Filomena so as she was preparing to serve the main course of roasted lamb garnished with artichokes and fennel. Along with it she had prepared broccoli rabe and fried cardoons, a hearty, thistlelike vegetable that managed to flourish even in the chilly climate of the Abruzzi mountains. All in all, the meal was a staggering performance.
    After dinner, while the men contemplated their bloated midsections, Maria and Vittoria cleared the dishes while Filomena prepared the coffee and dessert. Luca settled back in his chair and gave a contented sigh.
    â€œWhat did I tell you, Peppi,” he said, patting his stomach. “Is my wife the best cook in all Abruzzo or not?”
    Peppi let out a contented sigh of his own, for it had been many weeks since he had eaten so robustly. He smiled and nodded in agreement as he eased back and looked up at the photographs displayed on the wall behind his friend. There were, he noticed, pictures from the early days when Luca was still racing and others from when he and Filomena first met. The wedding pictures dominated the center of the wall as did the pictures of the children and grandchildren.
    Luca leaned back and looked over his shoulders at the photographs. “You’re in one of those, you know,” he said.
    â€œWhich one?” said Peppi.
    Luca pointed to an old photograph hanging amidst several others taken years and years ago. Peppi stood and went to get a closer look. Tears came to his eyes when he saw it. It was a picture of Peppi and Luca after a race, their arms around each other’s shoulders. They were smiling from ear to ear, so young, so full of strength and vitality.
    â€œI remember that race,” said Peppi. “It was our last one together. You won it