Page 30 of Better Than Gelato
What a Paolo thing to say. “What is it you do again?”
“Investments, banks transfers. It’s much too tedious to talk about.”
And you probably aren’t allowed to because you’re in the mafia. “Okay, well I’m all out of charming conversation.”
“Perfect, you can bring the salad to the table and let people know dinner is ready.”
I usher people into their seats and a moment later, Paolo sets the lasagna in the middle of the table.
“Are you ready for the best lasagna in Italy?” he asks.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life.” Jake says.
“Perhaps you are teasing, my American friend,” Paolo says. “But I promise you, I do not exaggerate. After this meal, you will never be able to go back to your bland, overcooked American pasta. It will be ruined for you. Forever.”
“I’m ready for all other lasagna to be ruined for me, Paolo.” Jake says.
“Very well.”
Paolo serves a slice of lasagna to each of us and notices he’s left with the seat at the end next to Valentina. He looks at me. He knows this is my doing. I flash him a smile, and he flashes me a look that says ‘You’re the worst!’ But I think he really means ‘Thank you.’
He takes his seat, fills his glass and says, “To Diego, may the best of your past be the worst of your future.Compleanno felice.”
We clink our glasses and then dig into the food.
Holy monkeys this is good.Paolo was right. My whole body fills with love for whoever made this delectable combination of cheese and meat and sauce and pasta. We tell him how delicious it is, and what a great cook he is and how wise his grandparents were to save that recipe from destruction during World War II.
Diego unwraps his gifts and we all ooh and ah. Paolo and Carmen both got him sweaters. They look more like something Paolo would wear than something Diego would wear, but Diego looks happy. Jake got him a fancy watch from the two of us. And Valentina got him a new cologne.
“Thank you,ragazzi, for the wonderful gifts. And thank you Paolo for hosting this delicious dinner.” He pauses and an emotion I can’t decipher flashes across his face. “It’s been a wonderful birthday celebration.”
“Well, it’s not over yet,” Valentina says. “I have one last surprise.” She goes into the kitchen and returns with a huge cake lit with candles. Everyone starts singing, and when Diego blows out the candles, we clap and cheer.
Valentina cuts a large piece of cake and sets it in front of him. Then she starts cutting pieces for the rest of us.
If I hadn’t been watching Diego’s face when he took his first bite, I might have missed it. But as luck would have it, I was watching, and I didn’t miss it.
He winces. Noticeably. He shoots a look at Valentina, but she’s busy placing more slices of cake on plates. I watch him try to take another bite, then give up halfway through and discreetly cough into a napkin.
This could be a problem. I’m terrible at eating things I don’t like. I stand up. “Valentina, let me help,” I say.
“Grazie,” she says and takes plates to Carmen and Jake.
I cut two tiny pieces and bring them to Paolo and myself. Paolo sees his tiny piece and opens his mouth to complain, but I give him a kick under the table. He looks at me, then takes a tentative bite. Actual tears well up in his eyes. He coughs and takes a big drink of water.
With dread I pick up my fork and take a bite. My gag reflex kicks in almost immediately. It has a sour, rancid taste. Like maybe this used to be a delicious cake, but it was left in a smelly gym locker for three weeks. I swallow hard and follow it quickly with a drink of water.
“Tell us about your dessert, Valentina,” Paolo says.
“Of course,” she says, settling herself into the seat next to Paolo. “This is called Prleška Gibanica. It comes from Slovenia, where my grandmother grew up. It’s prepared with curd cheese and sour cream. You roll the dough into thin sheets and then top it with curd, eggs, and sour cream. We always do it for birthdays back home, so I wanted to make it for Diego.” She gestures to the giant cake sitting in the middle of the table. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
Valentina is the sweetest one in our whole group. Every one of us would rather swallow glass than hurt her feelings.
“You were so kind to make this!”
“Wow! So many layers!”
“What a thoughtful idea!”
