He would bury it before Livia arrived. He opened the refrigerator and found nothing special there: a tin of olives, another of anchovies, and a piece of cheese. He cheered up, however, when he opened the oven. Concetta had prepared a platter of patati cunsati, an extremely simple dish that could be nothing or everything depending on the hand distributing the seasoning and orchestrating the interaction between the onions and capers, the olives and the vinegar and sugar, the salt and the pepper. At first bite, he became convinced that Concetta was a virtuoso in the kitchen and a worthy understudy to her auntie Adelina. After finishing the hefty platter of patati cunsati, he started eating bread and tumazzo, not because he was still hungry, but out of sheer gluttony. He remembered he'd always been a glutton and gourmand, ever since childhood. In fact his father used to call him Uccu cannarutu, which meant just that glutton and gourmand. The reminiscence was dragging him towards a twinge of emotion, but he boldly resisted with a splash of straight whisky.
