Dinner With the American

This past weekend my husband and I went out to dinner with four of his friends from high school. I was a little nervous as although I speak Italian now, it's not perfect and it's always hard to speak a different language with new people. Everyone has a different speed and accent when speaking.

So we get to the restaurant and there are eight of us in total. Little did I know, Italian men like to sit together- away from the women. My husband is like, "Don't you want to sit at that end of the table with the women?" To which I responded with a big, fat American "NO. I don't even know them."

Don't get me wrong, I am not shy. It's actually been said that I can talk to anyone, anywhere. In fact, I met my husband on a plane! But the thought of sitting with my husband's friends wives while they asked me questions about my life in Italy, made me nervous. What would we talk about? They all have kids so are they going to ask me when I'll have kids? Or where do I shop? Or how often do I go for facials? Because FYI, Italian women have amazing skin. I guess I am not really a "girly, girl."

So there I stayed, with the guys, and tried to follow the conversation the best I could. But in case you didn't know, dinners in Italy are LONG. There is antipasto, primo piatto, secondo piatto, dolce e caffe'. You take your time even when you order. You don't order the second dish when you order the first dish...no, no! Are you crazy? You order the first dish...wait to get it....eat it....and then you order the second dish. In America, we order everything at once and then we tap our foot and wonder why the food is taking so long.

So after 3 1/2 hours, we were ready to order dessert. At this point, I had a headache from trying to follow the conversation and I couldn't wait for some coffee. So when I ordered my crema catalana, I asked for coffee as well. I thought the waiter was going to fall over and the men were like "Cosa?" ( "what?"). Little did I know, you can't drink coffee with your dessert. Coffee is always last e sempre da solo (and always alone). One of his friends actually joked about sending me back to America...then of course a conversation about Americans ensued. How all we eat is burgers and fries and how we don't really cook that much. I always defend the American way of life for I will always be American and proud. But when it comes to food, Italy has us beat.

So the Italian lesson for the day is this: take your time when you eat and don't think about what you are eating next. Think about what you are eating now...and savour it. Ogni morso (every bite).

And for heavens sake, whatever you do, don't order coffee with your dessert.