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A heaping plate of steaming pasta, piled high with handmade noodles, spicy tomato sauce, and tender meatballs.
Each bite is a sensory experience, the chewy pasta perfectly coated in the rich sauce and the meatballs bursting with flavor.
To quench my thirst, I reach for a glass of Chianti, the smooth and rich taste complementing the bold flavors of the meal.
The red wine is the perfect accompaniment to the hearty Italian cuisine.
I twirl my fork through a noodle, my heart swelling as I bring it to my lips. "You outdid yourself, boy."
Dino blushes, and in the flickering candlelight, he looks the way he did the first day I met him. "My nonna taught me a few things about cooking before she passed a few years ago. Simple things. Good, quality ingredients go a long way."
It sounds cheesy, but I can’t resist saying it.
Leaning across the table, I run my thumb across Dino’s fingers. "The best ingredient you can add is love."
"It sure is, Daddy. I poured in soooo much love."
Dino rises to his feet, then selects two items from the counter behind his head. "Oopsie. I forgot to ask if you’d like freshly grated pecorino cheese."
I glance at the objects in his hands, my tummy rumbling.
One is the biggest chunk of cheese I’ve ever seen—bigger than his head.
The other is a comically oversized cheese grater.
Wow. Just wow.
Dino went all out for this dinner.
When he told me he wanted to whip up something special for me to thank me for my generous gift, I didn’t expect him to gothisfar.
This is all too much like we hit up the top Italian restaurant in Sicily and ordered ten takeout containers’ worth of top-notch food.
But no—it’s not from a restaurant.
I saw the dirty dishes in the kitchen.
Dino crafted this using the recipes his grandmother gave him. If that’s not the most thoughtful gift ever, I’m not sure what is.
"I shouldn’t." I clear my throat, studying my plate. "It can’t be great for my heart."
"Oh, live a little. This is a one-time thing."
I smile, then offer Dino a curt bow. "Please."
Dino brings the cheese and grater to my plates.
He lifts the cheese, but his arm sinks a little because it’s so heavy.
I steady it, then give him a supportive nod as he lifts the grater.
Dino topples over, collapsing on my lap. "The cheese is too heavy, Daddy."
I roar out a laugh, taking the cheese and grater from his hands and easily grating for two minutes straight, not letting myself stop too soon, because I don't have to pretend to be polite and say, "That’s great" because I don't want to appear like I’m pigging out. "You’d better ask Daddy to help you next time. All that cheese isn’t made for Little hands like yours."
"It’s really not."
When I’ve finished serving myself, I bring the cheese and grater to Dino’s plate and lift it high. "Would you like cheese?"
