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Selina grated a cinnamon stick into a bowl filled with bread
dough. The aroma of ginger, nutmeg, and other spices
floated out the kitchen window. On my way to the local
market, I had no choice but to stop when the smell reached
my nostrils. ???Is that cinnamon???? My nose twitched and
wrinkled as I sniffed the air. ???Selina must be baking bread
today.??? Tantalizing and pulling me towards the house, long,
magical fingers of steam lured me with their spicy scent. It
was too much to resist. The window was wide open. I stood
on my tiptoes and peeked inside. Selina stood with her back
to me. The plump figure, dressed in black cotton cloth that
hung to her ankles, hummed an old Italian love song. Her
head, covered in a black scarf and tied with a knot under
her graying hair, bobbed up and down with the rhythm of the
tune.
I nearly knocked over two flowerpots as
I gaped at the rising bread. They clanked together, but
didn??™t seem to distract Selina. I noticed a crack in the
pots that burst with blooms. Bright red geraniums grew from
thick green branches and the fuzzy leaves tickled my legs.
In the other pot were orange nasturtiums with yellow
centers. I looked down just as a fat, lime green caterpillar
crawled across one of the flowers. I was tempted to pick it
up, but was anxious to get back to watching Selina working
in the kitchen.
Trying to be more careful, I pulled
myself up, balancing on the sides of the large flowerpots. I
noticed that branches of rosemary and thyme, and other fresh
herbs, had been tied with string. Someone had hammered a
nail in the wall and hung them to dry.. Red peppers,
shriveled and wrinkled, lay in a wire basket.
Selina turned and caught me in the act.
???Ramon, what are you doing out there? Come inside and keep
me company!??? She winked and gave me a wicked smile. I felt
my face turning red with embarrassment. Selina rubbed her
dough-covered hands on the apron that was tied at the side
of her waist. ???Come inside,??? she called.
I pulled myself up onto the ledge and
slid down onto the black and white tile floor. Flour stuck
to the bottom of my feet as I walked towards Selina. ???There
you are. I??™ve got some sardines for you. Papa brought them
home this morning from the market, just for you.??? Ever
since I??™d come to Selina??™s bed and breakfast in Naples, or
Napoli, as the natives call it, I??™d had a fondness for the
tiny fish. Selina made sure I had some brought in fresh
daily.
I stood beside her, watching as she
mixed the bread. She pounded it with her round fists and
kneaded it firmly. ???Papa brought me some grapes. They??™re
plump, deep purple, and have few seeds; just the way I like
them.??? I turned my head and looked at the grapes. ???Eat your
sardines, Ramon,??? Selina laughed.
She set the bowl with the rising dough
on the window ledge and covered it with a damp cloth.
Satisfied, she picked up a block of cheese and began to
grate it. ???Parmesan,??? she smiled. ???For supper tonight. I??™m
fixing Papa and I spaghetti with tomato sauce. I have some
fresh honey for the bread.???
I gobbled the sardines and licked my
lips. I could hear the seagulls squawking outside. The
fishing boats must have just arrived with their daily catch.
I moved to the window and gazed between the whitewashed
houses down to the seashore, spotting Papa??™s boat. ???He??™s
here,??? Selina called. ???Ramon, go and welcome him home. The
Mediterranean was rough for the fishermen this afternoon.???
I made my way down the cobblestone
street to greet Papa. He was busy hauling the fish off the
boat. ???Ah, Ramon, you??™ve come to see me. Did Mama send you
here???? he laughed, picking up a crate of fresh orange roughy.
Silvery scales, covered with slime, slipped out the crate
and dripping near my feet. ???Stand back. I??™ve got fish,
oysters, mussels, and a special surprise for Mama.??? I licked
my lips. It smelled so fresh. ???I didn??™t forget you. Did you
enjoy your sardines from this morning? I??™ve got some octopus
for your supper tonight,??? Papa said.
I walked next to him as we made our way
uphill towards home. ???Mama! Come and see,??? Papa called. I
followed him into the house and the door slammed behind me.
???What did you bring???? Mama asked, her
eyes filled with anticipation.
The old man shuffled through the door
and put a brown paper bag down on the counter. ???I caught it
myself. When I saw it, I thought, Mama will enjoy this!???
Selina pulled the tuna out of the bag.
???Papa, my favorite!??? She reached over and kissed his
leathery brown cheek. ???Oh, and you brought octopus too.
You??™ll like that, won??™t you, Ramon????
I sat on a stool in the corner of the
kitchen watching them at work. Selina put the bread in the
oven. She chopped the octopus into bite-sized bits and
tossed them into a heavy black skillet. They sizzled in
olive oil as she filleted the tuna. Papa washed up and
chopped a sweet onion, a red pepper bigger that was bigger
than his fist, and three cloves of garlic. The smell in the
kitchen was overpowering. My stomach growled, waiting with
anticipation for my evening meal. Selina filled a bowl with
green olives. Everything looked delicious. I could hardly
wait.
Plates of steaming food were piled high
and placed in an orderly fashion on the table. Papa spread
creamy butter onto the hot slices of bread. I watched as it
melted into yellow liquid. The green-colored pasta was
drained and tossed into a large bowl. Selina??™s favorite was
spinach pasta. Tomato sauce, filled with fresh and fragrant
herbs, was ladled onto the pasta. Selina doused the grilled
tuna with more olive oil and put it on the plates. I drooled
as the octopus slid out of the skillet into a bowl. I sat in
a chair next to the table, waiting for the feast to begin.
???Ramon, you know you can??™t sit at the table with the rest of
us. Here??™s your bowl. Come! Enjoy,??? Selina said. ???Papa, I
wonder when Ramon is going to remember he??™s a cat, not a
person,??? she laughed.
I gobbled down the octopus until my
belly was full and then found my old and worn, yet
comfortable blanket in the corner of the kitchen and fell
asleep. ???Ah, Napoli! A cat could ask for nothing more."
(c) 2003 Margo Fallis
margofallis @ yahoo.com
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