In that enchanted garden where a girl from far away landed one day, many years ago, visitors were welcomed with very thin grissini, dusted with bee pollen and elderflower. And with fluffy focaccias weighing no more than 25 grams.
At the entrance, there was an impatient prince with three magical oranges that held princesses inside, and a chubby cat in shades of gold, brown and white who slept happily in front of the kitchen. From which came overlapping petals of green asparagus, caviar and lemon gel, with a creamy, indulgent sauce of sour milk and charred lemon. Just nearby, another cat, of gigantic proportions, frightened every child who misbehaved.
There was fire and embers and green ovens. And braids of ponytails made by a mischievous supernatural being, small and furry, who delighted in causing chaos wherever it passed. And a clear capon stock with stones, which turned out to be bread. And always, from beginning to end, many herbs from that magical garden: dill, sorrel, lovage, thyme, oregano, verbena, rue…
There was a humble shepherd who, with cunning, bent the arrogance of the powerful lord. And the sweetness of the lamb and the tang of the mustard. And the creaminess of the sweetbread and the saltiness of the capers. And a purifying liqueur, bitter and fresh, of cucumber, ginger, lime and tonic water, that invigorated us on that hot late-May afternoon.
And cones resembling the nose of a wooden boy. And a marvellous spaghetti with clam cream. And tiny drops of kumquat garum, mandarin vinegar and orange zest oil, to season our spirits.
There was a green ‘tigella’ concealing a cod brandade. And a superb orange wine from Sardinia that reminded us “Al Sol Brilla”. And the feeling of having seen a woman dressed in white wandering in the distance. And the fennel flavour of thin slices of “finocchiona” melting in the mouth.
There was the rice pudding of our childhood, at least mine. But this was creamy like a risotto, with a hint of vanilla and an unexpected green undertone of tarragon with notes of aniseed.
And the chubby cat, who had woken up in the meantime, leapt into the girl’s arms. She smiled and stroked him.
And all of this was imagined, or perhaps not. Less