One of my favorite experiences on our honeymoon was meeting the owners of the villa we stayed at in Tuscany. It’s quite possible that there aren’t any two people in the whole world who are more genuinely charming. When we arrived at the villa, Riccardo was manning the fort on his own. Susan, his wife, was in Britain dealing with the death of her father, so Riccardo was going about tasks that, you could easily tell, were out of his normal jurisdiction. The meet and greet part was one of those tasks.
He fussed and clucked and zigzagged between the guest house and the villa, collecting forms and maps and towels and keys. Then he sat us down at table in the foyer to go over the details of our stay.
“I’m sorry,” he said, tilting his head to one side and studying me. “but ninety percent you look like chair.”
I only blinked. I looked like chair?
“When she was not old, of course. Very young with the long hair. You know, yes? Chair?”
I smiled. “Cher!”
“Yes. Ninety percent you look like her in the face.”
When I hugged Riccardo at the end our stay, it was mostly for that.
Once he’d finished with paperwork, shown us to our room and armed us with half a dozen hand drawn maps and far more information than we could process, he changed tracks rather quickly.
“The frigo! Come. I will show you where you keep your food.”
Like ducklings, we followed Riccardo through the foyer, down the hall and into a large, airy kitchen.
“The frigo,” he said, opening the door to a squat refrigerator. But before we’d even seen inside, he slammed it shut.
“Christ!”
The Dork Lord and I looked at each other, puzzled, both of us wondering what horrible, moldy mess must have overtaken Riccardo’s frigo. Did something spill? Was something rotten?
“These Australians,” he said, hands cutting the air with unspoken and unmistakeably Italian vocabulary. “They put red wine in the frigo!”
We smirked. And then Riccardo laid down the law.
“You go to the store, you get meat, cheese, chocolate. You can put anything you like in the frigo,” he said. “but not red wine.”
Noted.
When renting a car from Avis before leaving the U.S. in advance of your long-anticipated trip to Rome, be sure not to use the American pronunciation of the rental company. Say “lahveese” (to rhyme with “geese) for the hotel clerk. Otherwise, you could wait forever to get the damn car. Well, maybe 10 extra minutes.
LOL! Riccardo is good people. When I was in the Dominican Republic this summer, they also put their red wine in the fridge. I was all, “What are you doing?!” My cousin claimed that if you left it out, the heat would make it spoil. I have yet to confirm whether or not this is true.
It can only spoil if you don’t drink it. And who does THAT?
I work for a winery so thought I’d chime in here…
Red wine (or white for that matter!) can spoil if it’s left out in high temperatures, for sure, so I imagine if they live in the DR that is a concern of theirs! It shouldn’t hang out unrefrigerated for too long, or the flavors will get all musty and the cork could even start to push it’s way out of the top. Also, red wines should be served in the 50-55 degree range normally, to really get the most out of their aromas, so sometimes people will throw reds into the refrigerator for a few minutes, just to get them down to the right temp. Even chilling them too much won’t harm the wine – it’ll just have to naturally raise back to the right temp before you want to drink them.
But the DR thing is a pretty extreme case – so Ricardo was right on this one. Those Aussies were crazy to have put theirs in the ‘fridge – especially since they were probably going to be drinking it relatively soon.
Damn Australians.
P.S. – I love the Italians.
HA!
I love it!
Duly noted.
I was at my sister-in-law’s place over Christmas when she offered me a glass of the red I’d brought her as a gift. I, of course, accepted. She went and grabbed the bottle out of the fridge. I nearly passed out from the shock.
Truly horrifying! I hope that Ricardo set those crazy Australians straight!
HA! i love to read your posts. Ninety percent you make me laugh and cry in just a few short paragraphs.
i will email you and give you our contact information. i’m the one who wants to do some print for your house as a (belated) wedding gift.
I am so glad you got to meet Riccardo. He and Susan are also some of my favorite people in the world. The villa has been remodeled and added to since we visited there. How was it? I long to go back someday!
Sue remembered you! Riccardo was astounded that she can remember someone from six years ago, but she thought you were so pretty! such beautiful hair! and tall! and so young! for having so many children! She loves the sound of your last name, thought you should be a crime novelist.
Ha! She is too sweet. I do remember her being very surprised at my (then) two children. I’m so glad you has such a wonderful honeymoon!
I am told almost weekly that I look like Cher (her younger days, pre-cosmetic surgery, of course.) The only time I get annoyed with it is when someone tries to demand that I sing.
Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves is the most common request.
Wow, you totally do!
http://blogue.us/wp-content/uploads/2009/11/cute70cher1.jpg
I really feel I should defend “these crazy Australians” and set them apart from the rest of the population…you know, we don’t ALL put red wine in the fridge!
Certainly not if it hasn’t been mixed with orange liquor and fruit and prepared as sangria. Surely that is an exception.
eighty nine percent lol
my mom does that with red wine and it just kills me. but im a wine snob.
Once at a nice restaurant (in Australia) a waiter asked my mother if she wanted ice in her red wine. She gave him quite the talking to!
I’m not a wine drinker but growing up in California my parents were big in to wine. I had to cringe last weekend at my fiance’s grandparents’ house when his uncle had his “fancy” friends over (they split their time between a house here in Australia and a house in France) and fiance’s grandpa offered the husband a glass of red from a bottle straight from the fridge! As he is an Aussie, I hope he was used to it, but every time I see the chilled bottles of red pulled out of the fridge I laugh to myself about how horrified my parents would be.