You know that feeling when you put on your favourite pair of jeans and they fit just right? That’s what I felt this past weekend, like I squeezed back into a pair of Levi’s that I didn’t expect to fit.
Walking through the doors of Blanco Torino with Debora, my Italian sister who I’ve known for almost ten years now, I feel at home. I’m blessed to have finished quarantine in time to see her graduate and to reap the benefits of spending time with all the friends from way back when who came for the celebration.
When I smile at old friends, their wide eyes and friendly smiles make me feel at home. Hugs and kisses ensue, even though we’re all masked up and have to sanitise ourselves right after...thanks Covid. It’s crazy to think that it’s been three (and even close to ten!) years since I’ve seen some of my Italian friends. Though we all look tad bit older and are hopefully all a little wiser, nothing has changed that much.
We chat about how life has been treating us, where we live now, where we work and what’s next for the future in between sips of carefully crafted negroni and bites from the amazing aperitivo food bar complete with sandwiches, prosciuttos and salamis, frittatas, warmed brie and Parmigiano, grilled veggies, and more. From an outsider looking in, it feels like a movie. This is friendship. This is food. This is the essence of Honey & Truffles and in that moment I feel grateful and blessed and overwhelmed with emotion.
As the night draws to a close and we are kicked out of the bar due to Conte’s new DPCM guidelines for keeping Covid at bay, we congregate outside and begin a drunken stupor home under the dimly-lit streets of old Torino.
There are some things that I miss so intensely whenever I return home after a jaunt abroad; one of which being late night strolls in the piazze. Stumbling home from a night out with friends to the rhythm of sneakers slapping against the pavement and the sound of uncontrollable laughter that steals your breath and makes your gut hurt. It’s the getting lost under covered arches and the clumsy stolen kisses in an alleyway while your other friends aren’t looking. It’s the smell of spilled wine on your new shirt. It’s that secret Italian club that you’re suddenly part of.
I can’t wait for more nights like that. Notti come quella sera…