June 2023
Just outside of Rome,
about ten minutes or so
after passing Due Santi,
where St. Peter and St. Paul met,
I got terribly twisted around
while driving on the convoluted roads
of venerable Castel Gandolfo --
in short, I was lost.
Sadly, I never found Ristorante Da Agnese,
where Sweetie Pie had previously dined
with her university class
(and where I now had luncheon reservations);
in fact, I never even got close.
Instead, I ended up on the other side of
Lago Albano, in the heart of
beautiful Castel Gandolfo --
but I was hungry,
very very hungry,
and I was struggling
to find another restaurant —
let alone find parking.
Well, I drove back and forth
along the main road,
along the top of the volcanic crater,
with its steep breathless drops-offs,
and I almost felt as if I were riding
a white-knuckler roller coaster.
Finally, I found a potential place
where I might be able to eat lunch:
Ristorante Gardenia --
but the big question was
would it be open.
So I stepped down into
what I thought would be
the lobby, but since the restaurant
was built into the hillside of the crater,
I suddenly found myself walking
down, down, down --
quite a long way.
Eventually, I found someone,
and in my best Italian,
I asked if they were open,
and if I could have lunch there.
They were very kind,
and they said they could serve me
in just a few minutes
after the kitchen was open.
So I waited out on the side balcony,
sitting comfortably on a sofa,
which faces the very top
of Castel Gandolfo,
where, just a short way up,
I saw the antiquated domes
of the Papal Palace’s Vatican Observatory
amidst the charming Italian buildings,
in lovely pastel shades,
and the lush greenery
that blanketed the hillside.
Soon, the smiling waiter
led me to my small little table,
right on the edge
of a very narrow balcony
that overlooked the lovely lake.
The balcony’s rail was of
black wrought iron,
and the large elegant lamps
that hung from the ceiling
reminded me of
the glory and grandeur
of the age of Christendom.
I placed my order,
and then looked out
over the glory of God,
stunning Lago Albano
in all of its magnificent beauty.
Truly, the views were
nothing short of spectacular,
and as the sun slowly strolled
through the afternoon sky,
the chameleonic lake
gradually seemed to change colors.
I saw emerald, aquamarine, teal, gray,
in the most wonderful shades imaginable,
and the colors varied
depending upon the light,
the angle of the light,
and the movement of the
dramatic dark storm clouds
that were gathering,
in the distance,
and, eventually,
over the lake itself.
First, the waiter brought
some refreshing Natía water,
with fresh-baked bread --
and being a bread lover,
I was a happy man.
Then, came the main course,
Gnocchi alla Sorrentina,
one of my favorite dishes,
and it was prepared to perfection --
in fact, it was a masterpiece,
from an aesthetic perspective
as well as a culinary perspective.
It was the perfect blend of
semolina dough and potato,
and the delicious pasta,
brimming in the cupped dish,
was elegantly served
in a light and mild tomato sauce
that was bursting with flavor;
it was topped off
with fresh fior di latte
and a lovely sprig of basilico --
I felt like a king.
Then, for dessert,
I tasted the finest Babà con Crema
that I have ever had,
a rum-soaked cake
in the shape of a brioche,
filled with sweet cream,
and served on an artistic plate
which was cratered with indentations
(presumably, to make it easier
for me not to miss a morsel
of this unforgettable pastry).
So as I reflected back upon my afternoon,
I asked myself the question,
Why did I allow my mind
to get all twisted around
when things didn’t go my way,
when I was not in control?
Why didn’t I trust in God,
the God of surprises,
who spent this entire trip
trying to teach me
that through trust
He would shower His
divine mercy upon me --
which He did, repeatedly --
even in the dark night
of unknowing?