The day is overcast, and there is a slight chill in the air. But I don’t mind. To me, it’s the most perfect day. As my gondola glides down the Grand Canal, I can’t help thinking how lucky I am to be here in my favorite city in the world, but more importantly, to be marrying the man I’m crazy in love with. Finally, the tears come into my eyes, but I fight them off. Too late. Aldo’s noticed.
“I was beginning to wonder when you’d crack!”
He pulls out of his trousers pocket a plain white handkerchief. He notices me staring at it in shock.
“Can’t ruin the Fendi silk one that’s in my breast pocket.”
I laugh. Aldo lightly dabs the corners of my eyes.
“No damage. So were those tears of joy or sadness?”
“Joy! What would I be sad about?”
Aldo’s face clouds over, but he says nothing.
“Forget I even mentioned it.”
It still amazes me sometimes how much Aldo and I are psychically linked. I suddenly realize the one thought that could’ve made me sad today. My father. Of course, he’s been in my mind, and I wish he could be here to give me away. But I know his spirit is present. For some reason today, I feel him more than I ever have since he died.
“You were referring to my father.”
Aldo smiles. “You’re a witch, you know that? How do you know my thoughts so much of the time?”
“If I’m a witch, you’re a warlock, since you often know my thoughts as well. I wasn’t crying because of my father. I was thinking how lucky and blessed I am.”
“Good. I’m glad to hear they were tears of joy.”
Aldo looks off into the distance. I see tears forming in his eyes. He quickly puts his sunglasses on.
“I’m really going to miss you.”
“Oh, Aldo. I’m going to miss you, too.”
He pulls his cheap handkerchief out of his trousers again and dabs at his eyes.
I squeeze his hand gently.
“You have an excuse now to come to Venice whenever you feel like it. And you can always stay with us.”
Aldo shakes his finger at me. “Watch what you promise. I might take you up on it more times than you and your Rick Springfield lookalike of a husband will appreciate.”
I laugh. “You noticed that too about him, huh?”
“How could I not, being the eighties child that I am?”
“You and me both. I noticed it the first time I laid eyes on him.”
“I bet. Stefano told me how you played a little hard to get in the beginning. It’s too bad I wasn’t here. I would’ve knocked some sense into your head and made you see what you were missing in bed.”
“And how are you so sure he’s great in bed?”
“Remember, I’m a warlock. I can sense these things.”
I give Aldo a mischievous smile, which is testimony enough that what he’s guessed at is true.
I glance at the gondola behind me that’s carrying my mother, sisters, and Angela. They’re talking and laughing. I’m so happy we’re all here together.
We arrive at St. Mark’s Square. I wait in the gondola with Aldo until my family and Angela have disembarked. Aldo helps me out of the gondola. He quickly fluffs out my dress, patting it down with his palms to make sure there are no wrinkles. My photographer, who rode in my gondola so that he could snap photos of me on the ride over, takes a few shots of us in front of the Basilica. Passersby and tourists stop to stare at me.
We make our way into the Basilica and down to the crypt where wedding ceremonies are held and where St. Mark’s body is entombed. The space is dark and very intimate.
The quartet we’ve hired begins playing Bach’s “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring.” Signore Lambrusca escorts his wife down the aisle. Then Angela followed by Connie and then Rita make their way down the aisle. There is a brief pause before the notes of Handel’s “Largo” fill the air. I look at Ma and Aldo. Ma finally looks like she’s about to cry. I loop my arms in theirs as we begin marching slowly down the aisle. My eyes immediately seek out Stefano. He smiles as soon as he sees me. Our gazes lock on to each other’s, never breaking until I reach the altar. Aldo and Ma kiss me before taking their places in the front pew. I turn around and give my bouquet to Rita. Stefano and I hold hands, smiling at each other.
Our priest, Padre Domenico, recites the entire ceremony in Italian. I feel bad for a few of my out-of-town guests who do not know the language. My heart races erratically. Stefano lightly strokes my hand with his thumb.
Padre Domenico announces that it’s time for us to exchange our vows. I go first. I swallow hard. First, I say my vows in Italian, then I say them in English. Padre Domenico allowed us to do this—a small gesture to make our guests who don’t speak Italian and who came all the way here feel as if they’re a part of our special day.
Stefano’s grip on my hand tightens before he says his vows in English. I’m wondering if he’s forgotten the small sheet of paper he wrote the English vows on. But he hasn’t checked his jacket pocket. Instead, he fastens his eyes on mine and recites his vows, speaking slowly and clearly. I’m touched that he memorized the vows in English. And he hasn’t mistaken any words!
At the end of the traditional wedding vows, Stefano adds, “I will always love you forever.” Our wedding guests are delighted and applaud, receiving a stern glance from Padre Domenico, who without a doubt is not thrilled at Stefano’s minor deviation from the traditional Catholic wedding rites. My eyes fill with tears as I silently mouth the same words to Stefano.
The Mass portion of our wedding ceremony continues. Stefano and I receive communion. After all of our guest have received communion and are kneeling in prayer, suddenly Paulie’s voice rings out, “Christ!”
Stefano and I look in horror at him. I don’t even want to look at Padre Domenico. Everyone is staring at Paulie as if he’s transformed into a hideous beast before our eyes. I knew the chivalrous Renaissance man I’d seen the night before at our rehearsal dinner was too good to be true.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Father. Ahhh . . . mi dispiacio, Padre. Scusa! Is that how you say it, Signora DeLuca?”
My mother shoots him the dirtiest look I have ever seen her give anyone. Her face is flaming red, and her signature knitted eyebrows are arched as if they’re ready to fence. Her fists are coiled around the rosary she’s holding, no doubt praying to God to finally rid me of the malocchio she believes has plagued me throughout life. Aldo places his hand on Ma’s shoulder as if he’s afraid she’s going to charge Paulie.
“It’s just that my video camera’s battery is about to die.”
I hadn’t been able to book a videographer in Venice. They were all booked for my wedding day. Since Paulie was attending, I asked him if he could do it and lent him my mini camcorder. Of course, he agreed and spoke of nothing else in the days leading to my wedding. He had assured me he was practicing every day so he would get the hang of using my camcorder. How could he have forgotten to recharge the battery before the wedding?
“Non ti preoccupare. Lo faccio io.” Fortunately, Giovanni, one of Stefano’s cousins, comes to the rescue and says he’s been recording the entire ceremony with his own camcorder, and he can continue doing so.
I breathe a sigh of relief.
Padre Domenico continues with the rest of Mass. No other disturbances occur, and soon Padre Domenico pronounces us husband and wife. Stefano and I both look at Padre Domenico for permission to kiss. We don’t want to upset him any more than he has been today. Finally, his stern face breaks into a smile, and he surprises us by saying in English, “What you wait for? Kiss. Kiss.”
Stefano and I kiss, and in that moment, I already feel different. I am now Valentina Lambrusca. Everyone applauds, including Padre Domenico. Stefano and I laugh. Rita returns my bouquet to me. We proceed up the aisle, and I try to make eye contact with my family and friends. Everyone looks truly happy for me. I’ll never forget this feeling or this day. Even with Paulie’s faux pas, the wedding ceremony was pe
rfect.
After taking photos inside and outside the Basilica, we make our way toward our gondola, which is waiting to take us to the restaurant where we’ll be having our reception. Before our gondolier begins steering us away from the dockside, our guests throw rice at us and continue throwing until we’re much farther down the canal. Once they’re certain they’ve thrown every last grain of rice, they begin loading two vaporetti to follow us to the reception.
“Ahhh! Alone at last!” Stefano looks into my eyes. We kiss, but much longer than the kiss that sealed our union. The gondolier begins singing. The only word that reaches my ears is amore.
“I can’t believe you’re mine.” Stefano hugs me even tighter.
“I can’t believe you’re mine.” I smile and push back a wisp of Stefano’s hair that has blown out of place. We laugh. I place my forehead against Stefano’s, and we close our eyes, reveling in this moment.
“We’re going to have a very good life, Valentina.”
“Yes, we are.” I kiss Stefano lightly on the lips before I nestle further down into the gondola seat and wrap his arms around my waist.
We remain silent as our gondola glides down the Grand Canal. Dusk drapes this magical city that never ceases to amaze. Calmness, like none other I’ve felt before, washes over me as I take in Venice’s beauty at twilight. The excitement of the day is making me drowsy. As I drift off to sleep, I hear my father’s voice whispering something he always said to me when I was a little girl: “Che bella fortuna. Bella fortuna.”
RECIPES FOR BELLA FORTUNA
Palline di Limone (Glazed Lemon Cookies)
Makes 80
4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
¾ cup sugar
3 large eggs, at room temperature
1 tablespoon lemon extract
2 teaspoons grated lemon zest
cup milk
ICING
1½ cups confectioners’ sugar
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
Combine the flour, baking powder, and salt.
In the large bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter and sugar at medium speed until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs one at a time, scraping the sides of the bowl as necessary, and beat until well blended. Beat in the lemon extract and lemon zest.
Stir in half of the flour mixture and then the milk. Add the remaining flour and stir until thoroughly incorporated. Cover and chill for at least 1 hour, or overnight.
Preheat the oven to 350 F.
Pinch off 1-inch pieces of the dough and shape them into balls. Place the balls 2 inches apart on ungreased baking sheets. Bake for 15 to 18 minutes, or until puffed but not browned. Transfer to wire racks to cool.
To make the icing : In a bowl, combine all of the confectioners’ sugar and lemon juice. Stir in a few drops of water, or just enough to make the icing easy to spread. Brush the cookies generously with the icing. Let dry on wire racks.
Torta della Nonna (Grandmother’s Cake)
Serves 8
FILLING
3 large egg yolks
cup sugar
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 cup milk
2 tablespoons orange liqueur
CAKE
1 cups all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
1 teaspoon baking powder
¼ teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into bits and softened
1 large egg, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 egg yolk beaten with 1 teaspoon water, for egg wash
Confectioners’ sugar
To make the filling: In a medium saucepan, heat the milk until bubbles form around the edges. Remove from heat.
In a medium bowl, whisk the egg yolks, sugar, and vanilla until pale yellow. Whisk in the flour. Gradually add the hot milk, whisking constantly. Transfer the mixture to the saucepan and cook over low heat, stirring constantly, until it comes to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for 1 minute. Scrape the custard into a bowl. Stir in the orange liqueur. Place a piece of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the custard to prevent a skin from forming, and refrigerate until chilled, 1 hour or overnight.
Preheat the oven to 350 F. Butter a 9-inch round cake pan.
To make the cake: In a large bowl, combine the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt. With a pastry blender, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Add the egg and vanilla and stir until a dough forms. Divide the dough in half.
Press one half of the dough evenly into the bottom of the prepared pan and ½ inch up the sides. Spread the chilled custard cream over the center of the dough, leaving a 1-inch border around the edges.
On a lightly floured surface, roll out the remaining dough into a 9½-inch circle. Drape the dough over the rolling pin and place it over the filling. Pinch the edges of the dough together to seal. Brush the egg wash over the top of the cake. With a small knife, make several slits in the top to allow steam to escape.
Bake for 30 to 35 minutes, or until golden brown on top. Let cool on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Invert the cake onto a wire rack, then invert onto another rack to cool completely. Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar before serving. Store in the refrigerator.
Lemon Wedges in Olive Oil and Vinegar
Serves 4
2–3 large lemons (the larger the better)
Salt to taste
¼ cup extra virgin olive oil
¼ cup red wine vinegar
Loaf of crusty Italian bread
Peel the lemons. Cut them into bite-size wedges. Sprinkle salt generously over lemon wedges. Drizzle the extra virgin olive oil and then the red wine vinegar over the lemon wedges. With salad tongs, toss the lemon wedges until they’re coated evenly in the oil-and-vinegar dressing. (Depending on personal taste and how high your tolerance for sour foods is, you might want to add more salt or vinegar after tasting the lemon wedges.)
Break off pieces of bread and eat with the lemon wedges or dip the bread into the oil-and-vinegar dressing.
Saltimbocca (Sautéed Veal with Prosciutto and Sage)
Serves 4
Fresh sage leaves
1 pound thinly sliced veal cutlets
¼ pound thinly sliced prosciutto
5 tablespoons olive oil
½ cup dry white wine
Place 1 or 2 sage leaves on each veal cutlet. Place pieces of prosciutto over the sage leaves; secure the layers with toothpicks.
Heat the oil in a skillet over medium-high heat. Add the meat packets, veal side down, and cook until nicely browned, a minute or so, then turn and cook until the prosciutto is golden brown; take care not to overcook the meat.
Pour the wine into the skillet and scrape up any browned bits stuck to the bottom; cook until the wine is evaporated.
Place the meat on a platter, drizzle the pan juices over, and serve immediately.
Cinnamon Vanilla French Toast
Serves 2–3
5 eggs
2 tablespoons milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (or a little more according to taste preference)
Butter or canola cooking spray
10 slices challah or potato bread (or 2 slices of bread for every egg)
Maple syrup
Confectioners’ sugar
Beat the eggs in a large bowl. Add the milk, vanilla, and cinnamon, and stir until thoroughly combined.
Place a tablespoon of butter in a griddle or cast-iron skillet and simmer until butter melts (if using canola cooking spray, spray the bottom of pan evenly).
Dip each slice of bread into the egg / milk batter and coat each side evenly. Immediately place the coated slices of bread into the griddle.
Cook about 3 minutes, or until batter see
ms to be absorbed from the side of bread that’s facedown on the griddle, and flip over with a spatula. Cook the opposite side for again 3 minutes or until batter seems to be absorbed.
Transfer cooked slices of French toast into an oven-proof dish to keep warm until all of the slices of bread have been cooked.
Drizzle with maple syrup. Sprinkle with confectioners’ sugar.
Fried Meatballs
Serves 8–10
1½ pounds of ground beef (or whatever meat you prefer: turkey, veal, etc.)
1 tablespoon of chopped parsley
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 cup of seasoned bread crumbs
2 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
2 tablespoons of pecorino romano cheese
1 tablespoon of red cooking wine
Canola oil
Ground black pepper to taste
Place the ground meat in a large bowl. Add the remaining ingredients.
Using your hands, incorporate the ingredients into the meat. Keep kneading the meat until all of the ingredients are thoroughly blended into the meat.
Shape the meat into a large ball. If it seems too dry, add a teaspoon of water, then knead the meat again. (Be careful not to add too much water.)
Pinch off pieces of meat and shape into 2-inch balls.
Heat canola oil in a skillet over medium heat (about 1 minute).
Carefully lower meatballs into skillet. Cook until meat is firm and a deep golden brown (about 2 minutes). Turn meatballs over to cook other side.
Drain cooked meatballs on paper towels in a plate.
Bella Fortuna Page 37
