I was recently reminded of Limoncello by my cousin, somepinkflowers, who wrote about it on her blog. I didn't realize the lovely, lemony libation was available right here, in my very own town, in my very own liquor store down the street. The last time I had it, I was sitting in a cafe on a Roman street with a view of the Colosseum over Cutie Pie's shoulder. The Limoncello was ice-cold (on a sweltering May day), tasty and decadent. When I realized I could have it here in my house (thank you, somepinkflowers), I included it on the menu of my supper club. February's theme, of course, was AMORE, and there is nothing more lover-ly (or cheesy) than a big Italian dinner. My suppermates and I drank lots of Limoncello -- some drank it straight, some mixed it with half-and-half and ice (yummmmmm) -- and I swear, as soon as I smelled it, I could remember with amazing clarity the moment I last drank it. Weird! Long-forgotten sights, smells and feelings were suddenly and oh-so-happily remembered. So, let me tell you about the best lunch ever.
We were in Capri, on the Amalfi coast, and we took a hike. There are many stairs in Capri, as the town is built on the sides of cliffs jutting out of the Mediterranean. I remember shrines to the Virgin Mary built into rock walls. I remember a little Italian girl who peeked at us and smiled. I remember the blue, blue water surrounding us at all times. I remember the sunshine hot on our shoulders. I remember the smell of lemon groves and the sight of bougainvillea everywhere. After a couple of hours, we found the restaurant our innkeeper had recommended. As the lone patrons of the Heaven on Earth cafe, my companions and I chose the best seats in the house -- outside, under a "roof" fashioned of lemon trees. We ate the most spectacular lunch, while gazing out at the sea. It took three or four hours, no lie. That is something I love about the Italians. They take their time. Especially at meals. They don' t know the meaning of turning tables. All of this reminiscing made me want to return to Italy. Tomorrow. Want to come?