Читать книгу The Ingredients for Happiness - Lucy Knott - Страница 14

Ingredients:

Farina

Zucchero

Uova

Polvere di cacao

Burro

Mandorle macinate

Rum

Cioccolato

What to do:

Sciogliere il burro e il cioccolato insieme a fuoco basso.

Sbatti gli albumi in una ciotola separata. Mescolare gli ingredienti secchi insieme.

Aggiungi rum.

Infornare in forno per un’ora.

The small balcony off the kitchen was home to the most magnificent view of the Tyrrhenian sea. Louisa had the brown double doors propped open so she could feel the night’s breeze on her skin and smell the perfumed air. She couldn’t quite put her finger on the scent of Italy. Yes, there was the hint of salt from the sea, but it was more flavourful, more powerful than just that. It was mixed with the lightness of the elegant flowers that blossomed in every garden, the lingering aromas of the day’s food that swirled through kitchen windows and the ever-present smell of coffee being brewed somewhere, accompanied by the sweet scent of pastry. She breathed it in, allowing her body to relax at the smell of home. She made herself comfy in one of her zia’s wicker chairs. The navy-blue hue of the night sky was mesmerizing; a vast ocean of sparkling dots caught her attention as her eyes flickered in search of the brightest one.

‘Ciao Grandpa,’ Louisa whispered before casting her eyes over the sketch she had been working on.

She had her sketchbook propped up against her knee and the arm of the chair and a few pencils tucked away at one side of her legs. She never went far without it these days. Since being in Italy she had been drawing nonstop. Everywhere she looked she found inspiration and that passion she had lost during her stint in London, trapped in her most recent nine-to-five, had come roaring back.

The current piece she was working on had been inspired by the ceramic shops she passed daily on her way to work. For every Costa coffee that Manchester had, here in Orzoro there was a shop selling limoncello soap and ceramic pottery that drew Louisa in every time.

The extra special shops were those where no two pieces were the same, where you would often find the owners hunched over a table in the back of the tiny store painting, each brush stroke working its way purposefully over the pot. Louisa especially loved when the artist mixed the blues and yellows and greens together; something about those colours screamed Italia to her.

Her blank paper was now alive with a deep cobalt A-line pencil dress with a square neck, a yellow patterned trim around the neck, waist and hem. Louisa could picture Sabrina wearing it for an important day at her new office with the boys. The thought made her smile. She was proud of her sister for taking Dan and Levi up on their offer of continuing to represent them and helping them navigate the next part of their journey in finding a new record deal. Louisa knew Sabrina was more than capable. She was pleased too that Sabrina would no longer have to work under Lydia at Jones Records. Louisa had apologized to Sabrina for always assuming her life was that of a glamourous celebrity manager, attending flashy parties, red carpets and dining with the rich and famous; she hadn’t accounted for Sabrina missing her as much as she had missed Sabrina. Her millions of Instagram followers and her band’s international success hadn’t exactly signaled lonely to Louisa, but they had talked over Christmas and her snipes and moody remarks were water under the bridge. Louisa now understood the workload behind the social media and album sales, and she couldn’t be more in awe of Sabrina.

Louisa felt that having some space over the past month and a half in Italy had helped her understand her sisters. She had always been the one to stay home, to be there for her parents and grandparents. She had felt angry at Amanda and Sabrina for leaving the family, and her, behind. But she was realizing that finding that balance between family and pursuing your own dreams was important. Being in Italy, doing something for herself, made her feel invigorated. As though she had finally stepped out of her older sisters’ shadows and found some sunshine of her own. Though she had to admit that going after her own dreams here in Italy meant that she missed her sisters more than ever.

There was a small part of her that truly believed she could make something of herself in the fashion industry and this was one of the things that was keeping her going. Another thing was Luca.

Growing up, Louisa had been surrounded by love; her parents had been happily married for over thirty years and her nonni had been sweethearts for sixty. It was this love that had squashed any doubt about giving the Italian man she met in Alfonso’s pasticceria, before Christmas, a chance. Luca had been a kind stranger at a time when she had needed it most. Though it all happened quickly, Louisa had felt a certain pull of magic, like Luca was her own Prince Charming.

Luca had spoilt her with picnics overlooking the mountainside, candlelit lunches in the cozy confines of her office and the finest tables at Orzoro’s best-kept secrets; to which Louisa had made mental notes to take Amanda to next time she visited. In addition to their extraordinary dates, Louisa had also spent time getting to know Luca’s family more, while Luca too often visited with her nanna and zias. The qualms about it being just a holiday romance were dissolving as fast as Luca’s sfogliatelle melted in her mouth.

Louisa wished more than anything she could tell her grandpa all about Luca, his family and the pasticceria, but somehow, she thought he already knew. Taking her eyes off her new favourite design, she looked out across the peaceful night sky and smiled as the brightest star flickered as she watched.

Suddenly her phone buzzed in her pocket. She grabbed it eagerly in hopes that it was a text from Amanda or Sabrina, but Luca’s name flashed across the screen. She smiled as she read his text wishing her a buona notte but couldn’t shift the loneliness she felt from her sisters having not responded to her for the third day in a row. She slumped down in her chair, a pout playing at her lips.

‘Cara mia, cosa c’è che non va?’ Nanna’s voice came out of the shadows in the kitchen doorway. Louisa sat up right away, not wanting to give cause for Nanna to worry. She was being silly. She loved her sisters and she knew they loved her too. They were simply busy, and so was she. Life in Italy was wonderful and not just because of Luca and work, but because she got to see Nanna getting to spend time with her own sisters after eighteen years apart. Unlike Grandpa, Nanna had not been able to travel back and forth from England to her home in Italy over the years. Ailments and illnesses had kept her grounded. She had become terrified of flying because of this. But last year after Grandpa passed, she had wanted to see that he got home and had inspired the girls when she agreed to come with them for his funeral. Nanna was strong and had put on a brave face. That face bore wise wrinkles, her skin a still-glowing olive tone and her eyes glistened brighter than ever before when she pottered about her childhood home. Now she shuffled along the tiled floor in her navy slipper sandals, concern making the creases around her eyes more prominent.

‘Nothing’s wrong Nanna, I’m fine thank you,’ Louisa said softly, getting up out of her chair to hug her. That always made her feel better.

‘You miss your sisters, no?’ Nanna questioned. Nothing could ever get past a nonna, Louisa mused, better luck next time.

‘Yes, I do. I’m so excited about the fashion show Nanna, but I can’t help thinking about how fabulous the opening of Torta per Tutti is going to be. I know she can be a stubborn pain sometimes but when it comes to cooking, Amanda knows her stuff. I was looking forward to seeing it come to life, you know, just being there for her and being a guinea pig, making sure the menu was perfect. But I know she will have everyone else,’ Louisa confessed, her arms wrapped tight around her nanna who she could have sworn had shrunk a couple more inches since arriving in Italy.

‘I understand cara. I know of this problem. Life is balance. What can we do?’ Nanna said, her voice an airy whisper. She, more than anyone, knew the heartache of years away from loved ones, yet she had always remained so strong and happy with what surrounded her, her sisters always sending cards and parcels.

‘That’s it! Grazie Nanna. Grazie,’ Louisa cried after a few moments passed. She kissed her nanna on the cheek, an idea having sprung to her mind. ‘You take a seat and you teach me,’ she added, guiding Nanna to the kitchen table but grabbing a yellow cushion to make the seat more comfortable. Just then Zia Sofia walked into the kitchen waving a torn piece of paper in the air as if she had read Louisa’s mind. Zia Sofia was the youngest of her three zias and the one always bouncing around after everyone; taking the lead in the kitchen and reminding Louisa fiercefully of Amanda.

‘Aspetta, aspetta,’ she said, before reaching Louisa’s side and pinching her cheeks with her paper-free hand. ‘You need this. We make it now,’ her zia announced, turning on her heel and collecting up pots and pans. Louisa gazed at the browning paper now in her palm and blinked back tears. It was Grandpa’s handwriting and read ‘Torta caprese’.

She looked to Nanna, unable to speak. Nanna’s eyes twinkled, a spark of happiness followed by a gleam of pain. Louisa missed him every day; she couldn’t imagine how Nanna felt.

‘Family recipes, they are the treasure of the life,’ Nanna noted, as Zia Sofia carefully pulled the recipe out of Louisa’s hand, handing her bowls and spoons and shouting instructions in fast Italian. Louisa would do well to remind her that it was Amanda that was the chef of the family and not her, but she had been the one to want to learn, so she did as she was told, following the instructions as best she could, feeling content that her zia had read her mind and agreed that food was always the answer, especially when made with love.

*

Rest had not been on the cards last night, Louisa was too excitable. At 6 a.m. she crept into the kitchen, grabbed her coat from the coat rack, picked up her bag from where she’d left it next to the wicker chair, collected the brown parcel from the kitchen counter and tip-toed in her black ballet pumps out onto the balcony. The soft morning breeze cooled her warm bones.

Louisa walked in silence down the cobbled path, past the blocks of apartments whose shutters were all closed. She almost wanted to tip-toe, scared to make even the smallest of noises and disturb the tranquility of the sleeping village. The street looked like a rainbow, as each window bore a different shade of turquoise, pink and yellow. As she made her way further down the mountain, closer to the village square, lights illuminated bakeries where Louisa could see little old nonnas preparing the doughs for the day. Louisa’s thoughts drifted again to Amanda and how she would soon be doing the same thing in her café back home and it gave her an extra pep in her step. She wanted to stop and give the nonnas a hand, knowing how tiring the process was, after years of watching Amanda beat herself up over loaf after loaf, trying to perfect them and get them exactly like Grandpa’s. But she knew this was what the Italians lived for – waking up to cook with love, to feed the world. She knew the nonnas would be just fine and kept on walking.

Disturbing the silence up the street were the fisherman delivering their catch to the market stalls and restaurants. The salty fragrance of freshly caught squid reminded Louisa of her childhood summers spent fishing with her grandpa. The girls had promised they would be back to fish in the summer; Louisa hoped that with both her sisters being so busy that they would somehow still be able to stick to this promise. She would try and understand if not.

Arriving at her first destination, she snuck in to the back of the bakery and was immediately greeted by Luca’s mamma. ‘Buongiorno cara,’ she said, hugging Louisa and then holding her back at arm’s length, her hands still on Louisa’s shoulders. Louisa was accustomed to this behavior. Luca’s mamma was assessing her up and down, finally resting on Louisa’s eyes. It was the kind of evaluation she received daily from her nanna and zias, usually to check that she had eaten enough and that there was happiness behind her eyes. But before the interrogation began, Luca appeared, and Louisa’s stomach turned into a swarm of butterflies.

‘Ciao bella,’ he said, his eyebrows raised and surprise in his tone. Then he walked over to her and kissed her sweetly on each cheek.

‘Buongiorno,’ Louisa replied, merrily. She then turned to Luca’s mamma, hoping to be excused so she could go and cuddle Luca before she needed to head off.

‘Come, we have coffee,’ Luca said, reaching around Louisa’s waist and guiding her out of the kitchen.

He pulled down two chairs from a small table at the front of the café and gestured for Louisa to sit while he went around the counter and brought the coffee machine to life. Louisa contemplated the street through the gold lettering on the giant window. Only the food vendors were bustling about in their stalls and cafés, getting ready for the morning rush. The other shops remained vacant, void of light and life. Orzoro sure was beautiful at sunrise.

With a whistle and a gurgle, the robust smell of Italy’s finest espresso wafted her way, along with a tall, dark and equally robust Italian man. Louisa took him in once more, smiling when he placed her tiny coffee in front of her.

‘Everything is okay?’ Luca asked, as he sat down opposite her.

Louisa took a sip of the strong coffee and looked Luca straight in his ocean-blue eyes. These eyes had a way of drawing out her fears since the days she had first gazed into them, but today she was full of positivity and exuberant energy, her fears having melted away along with the bowl of butter and chocolate she had mixed together last night.

‘Can I get some of your cinnamon biscuits to add to my box, please?’ she said enthusiastically. For the first time since they sat down Luca took his eyes off hers and looked to the box.

‘What it is?’ Luca asked, touching the box and toying with the lid, sniffing the air as he did so. Louisa chuckled.

‘My family’s secret torta caprese, for Amanda,’ she answered, allowing him to lift the lid and peak inside. Luca’s eyes lit up. He leaned forward to get a better look, eyeing up the cake in the same fashion Louisa had witnessed Amanda doing when they had first stepped into Alfonso’s bakery last year and Luca had given them a box of cakes. It was like he was trying to figure out its secrets just by looking at it. ‘I know I can’t make it to the café opening, but I can still be part of it in some way. Amanda is probably busy and stressing about it all right now, so I think this will make her smile and remember what it’s all about,’ Louisa added, placing the lid carefully back on the box, making sure it was snug against the cake so it wouldn’t break in transit. She would get a bigger box to protect it further once she got to the post office and filled it with more goodies from Luca.

‘You can tell me the recipe, no?’ Luca asked, wiggling his eyebrows, a sweet smile turning up at the corner of his lips as he picked up Louisa’s hand and planted a kiss on her palm.

‘Not a chance,’ Louisa said playfully, though she meant it and he knew this too. Family recipes were sacred in Italy; she couldn’t go giving them away no matter how handsome Luca’s smile was or how mesmerizing his eyes were.

‘Eh, what can I do?’ he said with a laugh. Louisa jumped up, moving to his side of the table to hug him. When Luca wrapped his strong arms around her, she didn’t want to be anywhere else. He already smelt like pastries and vanilla; she wanted to stay in his embrace all day, but she had work to do. She dropped a kiss on his soft locks and stood up, checking her watch to see if the town’s only post office would be open yet.

Ten minutes later, Louisa walked out of Alfonso’s with a flush in her cheeks and a much heavier parcel. Walking towards Orzoro’s town centre, she thought about Luca and his dream of travelling that he had shared with her during a special beach date over the holidays and hoped that one day they could maybe deliver a similar parcel in person, together, to Amanda’s café. The thought made her grin as she headed to the post office. With the smell of rum and chocolate occasionally wafting up from the box, she couldn’t wait to get to work today, feeling inspired by her family and the love in her heart.