CASTEL GANDOLFO / by Joe Castorino

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?