Not quite Proust, but...

I was cooking a pasta dish the other evening, tagliatelle with gorgonzola, pear, and nutmeg spices, and I was reminded of perhaps one of my most cherished eating places in Italy, La Bottega del Vino, owned and operated by Marco, who else? In Castiglion Fiorentino, there are a surprising number of good restaurants for such a small Tuscan, hilltop town, but Marco's was the best.

Affable, talkative, and a true lover of food and wine, Marco was the consummate host for the consummate consumer.

His pere e formaggio pasta was signature.

We had been living in Bologna for the past year, a city known throughout Italy as the place to go eat, though more importantly, also to shop for fresh pasta and cook yourself, so CF had some serious competition to stack up to. I arrived a couple of weeks early, as Vanessa was in Rome for a month, to set up the apartment with the two cats and the sundry items we had carried with us to Bologna from Austin and those accumulated while in Bologna and set out on the town to find some good restaurants.

Though the first evening I ended up at the "23" pizzeria, which had a stunning backyard and view of the valley, the second evening I went an epicurean step up and found La Bottega and had an incredible crepescular dinner, chatting with Marco (quite proud of my Italian) for a couple of hours over a multi-course cena italiana, featuring the pear and gorgonzola pasta, finished with a divine cheese plate that Marco crafted each evening with a medley of cheeses that had to be eaten in precisely the right order.

While making that pasta, I was reminded of Marco, his large laugh, his hospitality and his love for what he did.

A fine memory indeed.