Her name was: Mariuccia

Her name was Mariuccia

It was July of 1975, a few weeks before I was to come to America. My father and I were heading home after shopping for lunch at the “Vucciria”, the oldest open market in Palermo. Our car was loaded down with a selection of wonderful fresh ingredients and the aroma from the garlic, fresh vegetables, cheeses, salamis and other goods teased appetites with the promise of another memorable meal in the Stellino’s kitchen.

Throughout our buying spree at the market, my father had been acting strangely all morning. He had been very quiet and reserved. Even bargaining with the food vendors , his favorite activity had not improved his mood. As we were driving home we did not exchange a word, then suddenly and unexpectedly he took an unusual turn on the road. Instead oh heading for home he steered the car toward the harbor. I looked at him, but he did not look back. I thought maybe he wanted to make one last stop at Don Gioacchino’s Fishery, one of his regular haunts in that part of town. Instead he drove the car past the gates of the harbor. He parked by the pier at the end. I had been there before, once ,when we had taken the boat to Naples, that was the largest pier, usually reserved for the passenger boats.

He exited the car and slowly started to walk toward the edge of the pier. I followed along thinking maybe there was something he wanted to show me. There he stood at the edge of the pier staring out into the blue Mediterranean sea, the summer breeze was blowing softly. The horizon was dotted here and there with by a multitude of colorful fishing boats and the large cargo ships entering and leaving the harbor. I stood next to him wondering what was about to come next. He pulled out a cigarette, lit a mach and covering the flame from the breeze he took a long drag, inhaling deep. “Her name was Mariuccia” he murmured to me in a soft voice. He took another drag , the smoke blew out of his nostrils in a thick bellowing cloud, and kept staring ahead

A pang of fear attacked my heart: “Who was Mariuccia?” I said to myself “What was my father telling me?” with melodramatic overtones, I let my thoughts run past me. I turned around to look at his face, waiting for a smile, hoping that he was joking. He said it again: “ Her name was Mariuccia”, and, as he spoke to me, his hand reached inside his pocket and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. He handed it to me then turned around to look at my expression. His eyes were sullen and his lips were quivering. I took the paper from his hand and started to unfold it, carefully and attentively making sure that I would not put a tear along the old folds.

My eyes, quickly, darted through the document before. The first thing that screamed at me was the date January 1958. That was 4 months before I was born. I studied the document attentively reading it carefully line by line. It was a work permit, an immigration certificate for Mr. and Mrs. Vincenzo Stellino. The document set their departure date in January of 1958 from Palermo’s harbor, destination:….. New York. The name of the ship which would have taken the young family to America was “Mariuccia.”

We looked at each other without uttering a word, for the first time I truly understood what my father really meant every time he told my brother and I: “L’America e’ un sogno!” ( America is a dream!). My dream was now ready before me, a few weeks away. But it was “his” a life time ago. America became my dream, my destiny because my father sacrificed his.

I looked at his eyes, fighting back my own emotions I kissed him on his cheek and I whispered” “Papa’ ti voglio bene”(Dad I love you.) I held his hand and together we stood at the end of the pier, staring out at the horizon dreaming together of another land, on the other side of the horizon. A place where the ocean is always full of fishes and all the dreams always come true: “America.”

Looking out into the blue sea, my father ran his hand over my head like he used to do when I was a kid and he asked” Nicolino hai fame?(Nick are you hungry)”
I nodded timidly without uttering a sound. He pinched my cheeks with both of his hands and with a big smile on his face he said” Let’s go home and cook something, there is a special dish I want to teach you, one day you will prepare it for your friends in America!”
As I got into the car my father repeated to me: “ Nicolino, remember, L’America e’ un sogno!(America is a dream.)”

My mother Massimiliana, my father Vincenzo and Me

♦

Andy the “Fro’ man” did not like to be told what to do. He wanted his shot and he wanted it now. The family did not have a rein on him and since he last checked NYC was still an open city. Andy heard that Johnny “T “ had taken over the east side of the “Big Apple” and the fish trade belonged now to his crew.
The kid was not Italian but he sure had moves. His crew had come in from Dallas with the blessing of the family Boss: Big Nick “Toll-Tales”. Andy was not crazy about him either but he knew better then to mess with that crazy Sicilian.

When he came out of the hotel suite his crew was outside waiting for him. Andy thought maybe they should all go out together and see Johnny “ T”. He was tossing fish on the griddle at his join uptown. A swanky affair called Fishtail.
Andy was packing heat, he had a mind to show big “T” a thing or two about this fish turf thing of his.
Johnny was making moves all over the eastern sea-board and as far as Andy was concerned this was no place for some damned cowboy to be horsetailing around.
Johnny “T” should had stayed in Dallas and the hell with big Nick. The “Big Apple” was still an open city and no smooth-talking sharp-dressed “dago” was gonna tell him what to do. Andy run his own crew and as far as he was concerned big Nick was gonna be …..next.
He shut the door behind him and they all rode uptown. They were bound for a rumble tonight!

Big Nick was a tall man and an engaging storyteller. His tales were toll but they were all true, since he had taken over the family business he had manage to corral a crew of independent hair-trigger,
shooting-happy slobs into their own territory. Big Nick called the shots and things got done his way. He had no qualms about maiming a goon or two, if that is what it took to make his point.

At this moment he was pushing an olive around his martini glass wondering what to do with that crazy bastard out of “beantown”. Andy was in the “big apple” now and looking to square it out with Johnny “T”. There was gonna be trouble and someone was gonna have to pay. Big Nick took the last sip of his martini placed down the glass and called Johnny. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

Johnny “T” was a handsome man and a sharp dresser. All the ladies loved this dandy, but Johnny only had eyes for “ Tracy” his number one moll. She was one tall drink water out of Austin. The family liked this about Johnny , he was stable and that meant he would take care of business.
Johnny was up to his elbows in fish guts when Big Nick called. One of his “boys” held the phone to his ear.
As he listened, his eyes darted around furiously and his teeth clenched tightly. Then, he took a big breath and responded in a soft voice: “The deed will be done Don Nick!”

Andy and his crew walked in the joint at about 8:30 they all spread out at the bar and started to case out the space, the “Fro man" was impulsive but he was not stupid, in his mind he was formulating a strategy for his attack. His fingers run softly over the piece of cold steel he kept hidden under the coat. Maybe they should have a drink before getting down to his nasty bit of business. He yelled out at the bartender: “ Goddammit get me and the boys a Bloody Mary and get a move on it while you still have all your fingers!”

Andy’s eyes where aghast with surprise when the bartender turned around. He did not expect to be staring at Johnny. A quick scan of the room and he knew he had been outmaneuvered there were Johnny’s boys positioned at all the exits and all the 4 corners of the room. Someone had betrayed him. Maybe it was Ricky “Moon Man” from Vegas or Gil the “Tango Dancer” from Philly. His forehead was starting to sweat profusely.

Johnny did not missed a beat, he popped the cap of a small Sanpellegrino bottle and placed it in a chilled bucket before Andy’s incredulous face. Then in his slow southern drawl he said: “ Big Nick wants you to have a drink, he says that Sanpellegrino water is good for you, It does your body good and it keeps your bones strong and healthy.”
With that he poured some of it in a chilled glass and handed it over to Andy.

“ Big Nick would be most honored to know that you have accepted his drink.” Johnny went on to say.” He would be even more thankful if you smile while I take a picture”
At this point his moll: Tracy, came from around the bar and took a picture of Andy with her telephone.
Johnny smiled a sinister smile:” Big Nick tells me to tell you that Sanpellegrino water tastes a hell of a lot better then the Hudson river… Capisci? ”
Andy Understood only too well he took a deep long sip, swallowed the water and then motioned his crew to follow him outside. They all did .This time they all walked on their own legs unharmed. There were cars waiting. Andy looked around one more time and then he got in.

Big Nick smiled when he saw that picture displayed on his phone screen. He took another sip of his martini, straightens his tie and slowly started to walk away. He knew in his heart this was not over yet. Maybe he needed to pay a visit to the “Fro’-Man” in “Beantown” . But that is another story for another time.

A bottle af Sanpellegrino does your body good!!

Introduction:

This is a story I made up when i had too much time on my hand This little ditty is about two of my dear friends, Chef John Tesar in NYC and Andy Husbands in Boston. The story came as the result of a silly photo which defined and inspired this "film noir screenplay" ..... I hope you enjoy it.

The Story

Andy the “Fro’ man” did not like to be told what to do. He wanted his shot and he wanted it now. The family did not have a rein on him and since he last checked NYC was still an open city. Andy heard that Johnny “T “ had taken over the east side of the “Big Apple” and the fish trade belonged now to his crew.
The kid was not Italian but he sure had moves. His crew had come in from Dallas with the blessing of the family Boss: Big Nick “Toll-Tales”. Andy was not crazy about him either but he knew better then to mess with that crazy Sicilian.

When he came out of the hotel suite his crew was outside waiting for him. Andy thought maybe they should all go out together and see Johnny “ T”. He was tossing fish on the griddle at his join uptown. A swanky affair called Fishtail.
Andy was packing heat, he had a mind to show big “T” a thing or two about this fish turf thing of his.
Johnny was making moves all over the eastern sea-board and as far as Andy was concerned this was no place for some damned cowboy to be horsetailing around.
Johnny “T” should had stayed in Dallas and the hell with big Nick. The “Big Apple” was still an open city and no smooth-talking sharp-dressed “dago” was gonna tell him what to do. Andy run his own crew and as far as he was concerned big Nick was gonna be …..next.
He shut the door behind him and they all rode uptown. They were bound for a rumble tonight!

Big Nick was a tall man and an engaging storyteller. His tales were toll but they were all true, since he had taken over the family business he had manage to corral a crew of independent hair-trigger,
shooting-happy slobs into their own territory. Big Nick called the shots and things got done his way. He had no qualms about maiming a goon or two, if that is what it took to make his point.

At this moment he was pushing an olive around his martini glass wondering what to do with that crazy bastard out of “Beantown”. Andy was in the “big apple” now and looking to square it out with Johnny “T”. There was gonna be trouble and someone was gonna have to pay. Big Nick took the last sip of his martini placed down the glass and called Johnny. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

Johnny “T” was a handsome man and a sharp dresser. All the ladies loved this dandy, but Johnny only had eyes for “ Tracy” his number one moll. She was one tall drink water out of Austin. The family liked this about Johnny , he was stable and that meant he would take care of business.
Johnny was up to his elbows in fish guts when Big Nick called. One of his “boys” held the phone to his ear.
As he listened, his eyes darted around furiously and his teeth clenched tightly. Then, he took a big breath and responded in a soft voice: “The deed will be done Don Nick!”

Andy and his crew walked in the joint at about 8:30 they all spread out at the bar and started to case out the space, the “Fro man" was impulsive but he was not stupid, in his mind he was formulating a strategy for his attack. His fingers run softly over the piece of cold steel he kept hidden under the coat. Maybe they should have a drink before getting down to his nasty bit of business. He yelled out at the bartender: “ Goddammit get me and the boys a Bloody Mary and get a move on it while you still have all your fingers!”

Andy’s eyes where aghast with surprise when the bartender turned around. He did not expect to be staring at Johnny. A quick scan of the room and he knew he had been outmaneuvered there were Johnny’s boys positioned at all the exits and all the 4 corners of the room. Someone had betrayed him. Maybe it was Ricky “Moon Man” from Vegas or Gil the “Tango Dancer” from Philly. His forehead was starting to sweat profusely.

Johnny did not missed a beat, he popped the cap of a small Sanpellegrino bottle and placed it in a chilled bucket before Andy’s incredulous face. Then in his slow southern drawl he said: “ Big Nick wants you to have a drink, he says that Sanpellegrino water is good for you, It does your body good and it keeps your bones strong and healthy.”
With that he poured some of it in a chilled glass and handed it over to Andy.

“ Big Nick would be most honored to know that you have accepted his drink.” Johnny went on to say.” He would be even more thankful if you smile while I take a picture”
At this point his moll: Tracy, came from around the bar and took a picture of Andy with her telephone.
Johnny smiled a sinister smile:” Big Nick tells me to tell you that Sanpellegrino water tastes a hell of a lot better then the Hudson river… Capisci? ”
Andy Understood only too well he took a deep long sip, swallowed the water and then motioned his crew to follow him outside. They all did .This time they all walked on their own legs unharmed. There were cars waiting. Andy looked around one more time and then he got in.

Big Nick smiled when he saw that picture displayed on his phone screen. He took another sip of his martini, straightens his tie and slowly started to walk away. He knew in his heart this was not over yet. Maybe he needed to pay a visit to the “Fro’-Man” in “Beantown” . But that is another story for another time.

How Rich Am I ?

Well whenever I am asked this question, seldom as it is, by the few ill mannered ones, I always find myself thinking...
I like to think before I answer in view of certain youthful impulses that have taught me the importance of ponderous reflection.

So how rich am I ?... well all my associates are always paid on time, I have a home I love, I travel with a modicum of small luxury and I have all the clothes I need to suit my vanity.....
“So really” some one always presses on: “How rich are you?" and it is usually at this point that my mind wonders to a time and a place some 28 years ago.
A one bedroom apartment with a stereo, two banana lounges, a bed a kitchen table and a stove

The one thing that always shines in all of my memories is the reassuring glow of her smile and the warmth of her touch.
It was still there the first time I lost it all in a miscalculated business affair.
It gave me courage when I built it all again.
It gave me reassurance when it all disappeared the second time and it reaffirmed my confidence when I started building it back.

I have had things, many things and I lost even more things. But if you were to ask me what they were, I truly forgot them already.
When I see her smile and I feel her touch I do not think about my bank account. I know who I am and I know what I can do. But when I see Nanci smiling next to me and I feel her hand touching mine…. 28 years later, nothing has changed.
She makes me happy.

As for my bank account???... I really don't care all that much, as long as she is with me I can always win it all back…… any place any time.
So how rich am I? I am very rich and it has nothing to do with money.

A Man and His Cat

It had been a long day, his business endeavors had met with challenges and unpleasant outcomes, and he was tired.
Luigi the cat had been busy himself, his paws had run rapaciously over the toilet paper rolls in each of the bathrooms, there were balls, butterflies and little furry toys to chase around the House. There were many tumbles down the stairs chasing his brother Luca.
They were both tired when the evening approached. As if by magic, they fell asleep in each others arms.
Tomorrow will come, but for now everything was so peaceful!!

Tuscany : a little slice of paradise

My early flight to Rome from Palermo had been canceled , I managed to find another flight on a different airline.
Things looked a bit brighter in Rome when we finally picked up our luggage and collected our rented vehicle: a fabulously rakish, low slung, turbo prepped Italian sports car .
However that joyful enthusiasm was premature. The car started to cough and rattle just as we approached the small town of Orvieto , in Umbria. The light show which exploded across my instrument panel, and the accompanying concert of beeps and blips that followed, was at once entertaining and scary.

A few hours later , after a visit to the local car mechanic, we were back on the road. With a quick flick of the wrist I shifted into third gear, and then I punched the gas with deliberate purpose. The engine roared and the car shot forward into the fast lane, quickly accelerating past a long line of trucks.


The tachometer needle was now venturing into uncharted territory. The scenery around me was nothing more then a blur, but I did not care. I had only a few hours of light left and did not want to drive into the Tuscan country side in the dark.
I quickly glanced over at my wife on the passenger seat next to me, she smiled back with confidence. Her knuckles, white from gripping desperately at the dashboard before her, told me a different story.
We would have both agreed:" this day had not started well".


At dusk we turned on to the road leading to Castello Banfi. We were struck by the castle’s massive stance , perched high upon a hilltop dominating over the valley below.
I rung the bell at the gates of Il Borgo at Castello Banfi and their team swiftly picked up our numerous bags, escorted us to the Reception, and then our suite. The moment, we walked into our suite, I knew that this was going to be "the" experience of a lifetime.

Suite # 14 was elegantly decorated. The king size bed was luxurious and delightfully comfortable. The bedding was crisp white, soft as silk, with big fluffy pillows. There was a comfy couch
with a cozy throw, and plenty of good reading light. A lovely table and two chairs were perfectly placed before the window with a view of the valley below. There was a charming, quaint office in the next room, with a view of the pool and the vineyards. Around the corner, a super sized closet area. The bathroom was astonishingly big, gracefully designed in every detail. From the terracotta tiled floors, to the pristine porcelain double sinks, marble countertops, and a bathtub, certainly built for two. The walk-in glass shower was lined with extraordinary hand painted tiles; this place was pure indulgent luxury. Yet what made this bathroom special was an unexpected, set of large double windows, with a panoramic view of the surrounding hills.

The next morning we began to explore the Castle’s grounds, and see all it had to offer. Originally Il Borgo, was a group of buildings that were part of the working village within the walls of this 13th Century Castle, and at one time, about 300 people lived and worked within the Castle walls.
There is a wonderful Store: “Enoteca” where you can sip and purchase the Banfi wines of your choice. You can eat at two fine Restaurants within the castle’s walls.

The Taverna Banfi is an upscale trattoria, which serves hearty, rustic, county food made with the freshest local ingredients, I strongly recommend the Pici pasta and the Ribollita soup. For those seeking a more exclusive culinary experience, there is also: Il Ristorante Castello Banfi, a one star rated Michelin Restaurant. I had an unforgettable tasting dinner there. It lasted well over 4 hours and severely tested the stitches holding the front button of my pants.

While walking around the castle grounds do not miss The Giovanni F. Mariani Museum of Glass, which traces the evolution of wine and glass from the 5th century BC to present.

The Biblioteca ( the Library) is a private space for the guests of Il Borgo. This large room is anchored at one end by a large fireplace, with a warm crackling fire. Sit in any of the plush couches while perusing through one of the many wonderful books available. This is an elegant, charming, and cozy spot where you can rest your tired feet, have a lovely conversation, or spend some quiet moments sipping on a glass of Banfi’s famed Brunello.
There are many things to do while you stay at Il Borgo, maybe go for a short drive into the old medieval towns of Montalcino and Pienza or venture into nearby Siena. The hotel concierge can even arrange for horse rides through the vineyards or the beaches near Grosseto.
I did not do any of those things; I just stayed at the castle. I ate at the restaurants everyday with prodigious appetite, took naps, sat under the pergola by the rose garden, sipping on a glass of wine. I explored every inch of the castle walls and took innumerable photos, and watched the sunset everyday I was there.
What was truly magical is that I forgot about work. I never checked the computer, I never once called my office. Instead, my wife and I went on many walks in the surrounding countryside. We enjoyed breakfast in the room, as the beautiful morning light painted the view before us with shades of golden and amber autumn colors. I felt alive and " Happy!"

As I stood there at sunset, holding my wife close to me, shielding her from the cool wind, breezing softly across the valley below, I knew “exactly”, just how lucky I was to be there! This place was pure magic for my soul.

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