Parma ham with melon… pizza… tiramisu. I still remember that first time, dining out as a ‘grown up’. It was the Seventies… the little Italian restaurant by the Arches was all new to me. I wasn’t even old enough to drink the Chianti we ordered…it was the only wine whose name we knew.
My mother had spent some time in Italy, bringing home one of the raffia-wrapped bottles and tales of romance. Her memories entwine with my own.
“Bellissima signorina” becomes “signora”… but the magic of an Italian restaurant remains ever young.
Eyes meet in laughter
Moments shared by candlelight
Travelling through time