My friend Liz called me up when she was planning the baptismal party for her son, and said Faye, “if you were throwing a party for the second coming of Christ, or to baptise your son, in the Italian tradition, they would be the same.” I have to say I have found this to be true. In this little region, it is really only the baby that has to show up at the church; everyone else goes directly to the food. Last night, there was a table outside of antipasto and drinks, my favorite a mix of campari, blood orange juice and prosseco. Inside, the rest of the food was on display for about an hour until the baby showed up. There is nothing better than porchetta for party food, a huge whole pig, turned on a spit seasoned with fennel, sage and rosemary, until the skin is absolutely crisp and the inside is as soft as butter on a warm day. You don’t really need anything else, but just in case, there were twenty different platters of food to tempt you away from any ideas of not overeating. Whole forms of ricotta served with fresh fave, all types of sliced salume and sausages, chianina beef thin as paper, with a salsa verde, grilled vegetables, pasta in every form, faro, fruits, and then eight desserts.
Ferd played “Don’t let the fox catch the chickens” with the girls outside.