once.
Eventually he calls out to me. “Okay, I am finished.”
Oh. That was nowhere near as long as I had expected. I check my watch, breaking me out of my relaxation bubble. It’s 8.39pm. He’s only been sketching for twenty-five minutes!
My eyes cast over to the picnic basket, and I remember that he bought it out for us to enjoy.
“What’s in there?” I point at it, keen to see the contents.
He laughs softly to himself. “You hungry, yes? Me too.”
Actually no, but I can still sample some Italian delights. He opens the bag and it appears to be a bottomless pit as he pulls out a thin but expansive picnic blanket, a bottle of sangiovese and a plastic platter with three small wheels of cheese. I watch him proceed to pull a punnet of figs and finally a packet of crostini crackers. Cheese, crackers, and wine…I think I’ve died and gone to food heaven.
“This is enough, si ?” he looks unsurely at me. “Thank you for meeting me tonight.” He gives me a wide grin and he looks so young. I swoon.
“This is perfect,” I insist, returning his enthusiastic grin.
He sets up the picnic underneath a large tree, laying out everything like a casual picnic. As he pops the bottle of wine open, I grab some crackers and using the cheese knife, I cut small wedges of all the cheeses.
The first one is a pecorino and immediately I can taste the smokiness and grape marc, it’s unlike any cheese I’ve had before. The second cheese is crumblier in texture. It must be Asiago d'Allevo. The third and final cheese is one I have never tried before, and it has a rather distinctive mushroom flavour. It has holes in it and looks like a piece of cake. If I had to pick a favourite it would have to be the Asiago.
“What’s this cheese here?” I point at the third piece of cheese.
“This is fontina. It’s got a nuttier flavour.” He pours wine into the plastic wine glasses and hands me one.
Matteo downs his drink in one go, like it is water. He proceeds to eat and remains silent. I follow suit and eat quietly. The drawing session was peaceful and tranquil, and this impromptu picnic is no different. It’s nice to just sit here and enjoy the warm summer night eating this delicious food. Matteo eats like he has all the time in the world, stretching out his legs as he looks over at the fading sunset. He drinks like a fish however, downing half the bottle himself.
“Can I see the sketch?” I ask, glancing at the closed sketchpad sitting next to the insulated bag.
He flinches a little, and stops eating his fig. “It’s not complete yet. But when I’m finished, you can see it.”
I can respect his artistic right to keep his work to himself.
“So the wedding with Amelia, are you looking forward to it? Excited?” I ask, hoping to start a conversation.
He looks pensive, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah sure, I’ve been to Amalfi Coast lots of times. I always like coming back here. But to be honest, photographing weddings is not my preferenza .”
My ears perk up. Did he just say that? To capture love in its most pure form, in such a celebration would be a privilege to me. And he just thinks of it as his job?
“Why? Weddings are so bellissimo .” I made it a goal to say at least one Italian word tonight. Mission accomplished.
He senses my affronted tone and finishes his fig. “Money is good, but I like nature, animals, landscapes” He turns to look at me. “And portraits are pretty fun, too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Hopefully I didn’t fidget too much.”
Matteo smiles. “No, you behaved very well! There’s nothing I wouldn’t want to paint, draw.”
“Well your drawings are beautiful, the tree from yesterday,” I say.
A smile appears on his full lips, and he turns to look at me. “ Grazie , that’s very kind of you. So why do you like weddings?”
I always get asked this question, but only from a client or friends. “It’s joy, happiness, and love all in one day. Amore , lots of amore !”
“But
Eventually he calls out to me. “Okay, I am finished.”
Oh. That was nowhere near as long as I had expected. I check my watch, breaking me out of my relaxation bubble. It’s 8.39pm. He’s only been sketching for twenty-five minutes!
My eyes cast over to the picnic basket, and I remember that he bought it out for us to enjoy.
“What’s in there?” I point at it, keen to see the contents.
He laughs softly to himself. “You hungry, yes? Me too.”
Actually no, but I can still sample some Italian delights. He opens the bag and it appears to be a bottomless pit as he pulls out a thin but expansive picnic blanket, a bottle of sangiovese and a plastic platter with three small wheels of cheese. I watch him proceed to pull a punnet of figs and finally a packet of crostini crackers. Cheese, crackers, and wine…I think I’ve died and gone to food heaven.
“This is enough, si ?” he looks unsurely at me. “Thank you for meeting me tonight.” He gives me a wide grin and he looks so young. I swoon.
“This is perfect,” I insist, returning his enthusiastic grin.
He sets up the picnic underneath a large tree, laying out everything like a casual picnic. As he pops the bottle of wine open, I grab some crackers and using the cheese knife, I cut small wedges of all the cheeses.
The first one is a pecorino and immediately I can taste the smokiness and grape marc, it’s unlike any cheese I’ve had before. The second cheese is crumblier in texture. It must be Asiago d'Allevo. The third and final cheese is one I have never tried before, and it has a rather distinctive mushroom flavour. It has holes in it and looks like a piece of cake. If I had to pick a favourite it would have to be the Asiago.
“What’s this cheese here?” I point at the third piece of cheese.
“This is fontina. It’s got a nuttier flavour.” He pours wine into the plastic wine glasses and hands me one.
Matteo downs his drink in one go, like it is water. He proceeds to eat and remains silent. I follow suit and eat quietly. The drawing session was peaceful and tranquil, and this impromptu picnic is no different. It’s nice to just sit here and enjoy the warm summer night eating this delicious food. Matteo eats like he has all the time in the world, stretching out his legs as he looks over at the fading sunset. He drinks like a fish however, downing half the bottle himself.
“Can I see the sketch?” I ask, glancing at the closed sketchpad sitting next to the insulated bag.
He flinches a little, and stops eating his fig. “It’s not complete yet. But when I’m finished, you can see it.”
I can respect his artistic right to keep his work to himself.
“So the wedding with Amelia, are you looking forward to it? Excited?” I ask, hoping to start a conversation.
He looks pensive, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah sure, I’ve been to Amalfi Coast lots of times. I always like coming back here. But to be honest, photographing weddings is not my preferenza .”
My ears perk up. Did he just say that? To capture love in its most pure form, in such a celebration would be a privilege to me. And he just thinks of it as his job?
“Why? Weddings are so bellissimo .” I made it a goal to say at least one Italian word tonight. Mission accomplished.
He senses my affronted tone and finishes his fig. “Money is good, but I like nature, animals, landscapes” He turns to look at me. “And portraits are pretty fun, too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Hopefully I didn’t fidget too much.”
Matteo smiles. “No, you behaved very well! There’s nothing I wouldn’t want to paint, draw.”
“Well your drawings are beautiful, the tree from yesterday,” I say.
A smile appears on his full lips, and he turns to look at me. “ Grazie , that’s very kind of you. So why do you like weddings?”
I always get asked this question, but only from a client or friends. “It’s joy, happiness, and love all in one day. Amore , lots of amore !”
“But
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