Chapter 23
23
Today we are at Come a Casa HQ, to see the office and have a tour of the factory – well, I’m calling it a factory, and it does indeed have one, but doing so doesn’t do the place even close to justice because it is nothing like the factories back home. We’re out in the Italian countryside, in a scene that is straight off a postcard or an oil painting or a dream sequence.
I’ve worked in offices for my entire adult life but they have always been in city centres. How amazing must it be, to work out here, with all of this right outside your window? I see all the time, when I’m reading up on how to be less stressed, that what you need is a certain amount of ‘intrinsic joy’ in your life, which I think basically means time in nature. Working in nature must surely go a long way to bridging that gap? It’s not always easy, to make time for nature each day, when you’re slap-bang in the middle of the city centre. Sure, there are parks here and there, but none that compare to being out here in paradise.
As Beppe gave us the tour, Andrea translated everything he was saying. I wonder if Italian sentences are naturally much longer than English ones, or whether Andrea is giving us the condensed version. There was a story Beppe told Andrea about the time the place was surrounded by wildfire, which thankfully didn’t quite reach the building or the grounds, but when everyone left to head home the flames were apparently reaching high above the cars, with Beppe saying that at one point he practically drove through a wall of flames. It seemed like it took forever for him to tell Andrea the story but, when he told us in English, it was much shorter. Now that I think about it, I do feel like he’s filtering the details for us, getting everything to the point.
I had never seen a vineyard in real life, until today. It sprawls out before us, its lush green vines stretching as far as the eye could see, everything so neat and perfect – and yet still so natural looking. It’s such a warm, sunny day too, so everything is bathed in the most delicious light. I want to run down there, frolicking through the vines, picking grapes, popping them in my mouth. Still, as joyful as that may feel, I would probably look a bit like I’d lost it. Frolicking isn’t very professional, is it?
Next he took us to the winery – something that definitely sounded like my kind of place – where the rich scent of fermenting grapes filled the air. The room was a mixture of some pretty intense-looking machinery with, bizarrely, wooden barrels dotted around.
Beppe explained the winemaking process to us and I knew that it wouldn’t be easy but I was surprised by how high-tech it was. Of all the things to be impressed by, this is surely the least spectacular but, for me, it was the machine that somehow removes all of the stems and the skins from the grapes before ejecting them. If only such machines existed for sorting and removing other things from your life – like Lizes.
The wine juice flows through pipes, into the fermentation room, where it enters these large containers. Then, my gosh, I can’t even remember everything Andrea said about how they have to keep the juice moving, keep the temperature right – keep all of these variables absolutely perfect. Honestly, I think the next time I drink wine (which is going to be shortly, I’m told) I’m going to appreciate each sip so much more, for knowing what a science making wine actually is.
Stepping inside the main building, you’re immediately drawn to the large windows that frame the stunning countryside views, which you can see even more of from upstairs – so, even when you’re inside, you still feel like you’re outside. It’s cooler in here but the golden rays of the sun cast a warm glow over the rolling hills. Again, it’s more like looking at a painting than out of a window.
We are all currently in what Andrea translated as being called the test kitchen. It’s a space with multiple workstations, alongside a large table. Honestly, even the room where they create their recipes and test them out has a real family vibe to it.
We’re all pretty captivated by the set-up here, in a way that we haven’t been before. Well, when we’ve visited our clients previously, none of them have been as cool as this. There’s nothing all that exciting about visiting a window company or a law firm – and there’s basically no food at either place.
‘Beppe says that, seeing as though this is where they create and try out their recipes, he wants you all to try to make something with the things he has laid out for you,’ Andrea translates. ‘He says there are ready-made products as well as fresh ingredients, pasta, and breads. He wants to see what you can create, and for you all to use and sample the items you will be selling.’
Oh, boy. I am not what you would call a naturally gifted cook, nor am I a professionally trained chef, so it really will be testament to these products if I can whip up something even half decent.
Beppe goes off to take a phone call, leaving us to it.
‘Well, I’m brilliant in the kitchen,’ Liz announces with her usual trademark level of smugness. ‘As good as I am in any other room.’
She gives James a playful nudge, which doesn’t even seem to register with him. He’s too busy staring over at me and Andrea. It’s pretty much a fact that, whenever Andrea and I are in a room together, James has his eyes on us. I still can’t get over how into me he is now that he’s realised other humans seemingly find me desirable.
Looking at the ingredients in front of me, I rack my brains for something I can do well, that won’t totally embarrass me. There is a large saucepan of Come a Casa tomato pasta sauce in a saucepan, simmering away, for us all to use. I can see crusty bread, mozzarella, fresh basil – oh, I know, I’ll make bruschetta.
Andrea must see the light bulb above my head.
‘What are you going to make?’ Andrea asks curiously.
‘I was thinking I might take a stab at making bruschetta,’ I tell him. ‘I’m not sure I’ll be able to compete with yours, or anyone else’s in your family, but surely I can’t get it wrong. It’s just fancy cheese on toast, right?’
‘Robin, no! ’ Andrea practically moans.
I love it when he does that. I can’t think of anything more Italian than getting offended on behalf of food.
‘What?’ I ask through a laugh.
‘It’s not “fancy cheese on toast”, it’s bruschetta ,’ he claps back.
‘Okay, okay,’ I reply, amused by his attempt at my accent.
Andrea tears off a chunk of bread before dipping it in the sauce. He pops it in his mouth and, I swear, you can see the cogs turning in his head as he almost forensically chews it.
‘Do you mind if I add to it?’ he asks.
‘Sure,’ I reply.
It’s the communal sauce, if such a thing existed, but I can’t imagine anyone else minding.
As I prep my bruschetta, I can see Andrea, out of the corner of my eye, adding things to the sauce. There are all kinds of fresh ingredients laid out for us, and I’m not sure which ones he is using, but he’s doing what he’s doing with so much flare.
‘Oh, we’ve got a professional in the house,’ Rick calls over.
Andrea smiles modestly as he tears another chunk of bread, dips it in the sauce, and offers it to me. My hands aren’t clean so – what’s a girl to do? – I lean forward, mouth first, and let him feed it to me.
‘Mmm,’ I groan.
‘Bloody hell, get a room,’ James complains.
‘We’ve got one,’ Andrea replies. ‘Next to yours.’
I’m loving this cheeky side of Andrea.
He turns his attention back to me.
‘What do you think?’ he asks.
‘It’s really good,’ I tell him. ‘I think I could eat that all day.’
‘ Grazie ,’ he says simply.
As Beppe comes back to join us, I put the finishing touches on my bruschetta. I want to say that the Come a Casa ready-made ingredients make things easier, but I suppose, technically speaking, a genuine Italian chef had a hand in tweaking this one.
‘Beppe says for everyone to eat,’ Andrea translates.
We all tuck into the food, trying each other’s creations, and everyone seems to be loving it. Then, all of a sudden, Beppe’s face falls.
Beppe says something to Andrea. Andrea replies. It seems heated – but doesn’t it always, when Italian men chat to one another.
‘Is everything okay?’ I ask Andrea.
‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ he reassures me. ‘Beppe just noticed the sauce was different and he wants to know why, so I’m just telling him that it was me, and about my work.’
As Andrea continues to chat with Beppe, I notice a few words that I understand – not because my Italian is getting better, but because they’re the same in English.
‘Hollywood,’ Rick blurts. ‘And LA. I understand those words. What on earth are you two talking about?’
‘I think he’s worried that I am the competition,’ Andrea explains. ‘So I’m reassuring him that I’m not. I might not even be working in Italy for much longer, because I’ve been offered a job in Hollywood. They want me to open a new Italian restaurant.’
Rick’s eyes widen in surprise.
‘Really? That’s incredible!’ he exclaims.
‘They want me to create the menu, hire the chefs, and maybe even stay on to work there,’ Andrea continues, with just a hint of pride in his tone.
I try to keep my game face on, acting like this is not news to me, but this is very much news to me. Hollywood, that’s… wow. That’s a long way from home. Still, it’s none of my business, is it?
As Andrea turns back to continue his conversation with Beppe in Italian, they begin to walk away from the group. Their hand gestures and intense expressions don’t mean much to me but, whatever the conversation may be, it’s certainly animated.
As we all pick at the food, I keep my eye on the pair.
‘Be right back,’ Rick announces, going to join them.
He’s only over there a moment or two before they all leave the room together. Interesting – very interesting.
At least I know that I’ve got a man on the inside. I’m sure Andrea will fill me in later.
With Andrea, Rick, and Beppe out of earshot, Cait wastes no time in pouncing on me, hooking her arm with mine. She is never this pally with me so I’m instantly suspicious.
‘Wow, Robin, Andrea is moving all the way to LA – that must be difficult, right?’ she probes. ‘I know you’re already doing long distance but that’s, like, really long distance.’
‘Yeah, I mean, I can’t believe your long-distance thing works now,’ Liz chimes in. ‘Even making it work between Italy and England must be hard. LA is a whole different ball game.’
James isn’t looking in this direction but I can tell that he’s listening out for my response as he aimlessly stirs the sauce.
I take a subtle deep breath, gearing up to give them the best possible reply I can think of. Well, I am in advertising, darling. Everyone loves a good story.
‘Well, you know what they say, true love conquers all, right?’ I begin, smiling sweetly. Then I sigh contently, for effect. ‘Andrea and I are solid. We’ll make it work because, well, that’s what you do when you love someone, right? It doesn’t matter if we’re in different countries or different continents. We’ll make it work because the alternative isn’t even an option.’
As the words leave my lips, as great as they sound, I feel a pang of disbelief. Sure, it’s a nice idea, but if this were a real relationship, and Andrea and I really had been doing the long-distance thing, there is no way I would be able to do this for much longer. Even having a friend living this far away feels like a waste – I mean, back when I was a teen, and Andrea was my pen pal, I used to wish that he (technically she) was around in real life. England to Italy is a challenge but England to LA is a nightmare. Imagine having a smoking-hot man like Andrea, and him being in Hollywood, surrounded by starlets, and you’re stuck back in Manchester where the only person who ever chats you up is the drunk man outside Tesco.
Still, I push on with it, selling my story to my colleagues, especially Liz, who seems particularly sceptical.
‘I have my life in Manchester, and Andrea is in demand all over the world, so we’ll have to see what happens,’ I conclude, trying to sound convincing. ‘But, wherever he is, I’ll love him forever.’
‘Cute,’ Cait points out.
‘Almost too cute,’ Liz says, low-key repulsed.
James is still trying to pretend that he isn’t listening but his eyebrows are betraying him, as they shoot up and down in time with the conversation.
The real fact of the matter is that I do have my life (for what it’s worth) in Manchester and Andrea is free to go wherever he likes.
So why do I feel kind of sad?