I posted about it here. Beneath oleander trees in the courtyard of San Giovanni. It was relaxed and low-key with lots of contented, full-belly sighs and wine. Just what we all needed in between frantic moments of visiting photographers and spidery dj's and changing minds five different times about the size of the offertory bread basket for the church because so-and-so said it should be bigger and trying to indulge a certain someone's (who shall remain nameless, but his nickname rhymes with chaps) ridiculous, most inopportune time for a prank --
pause for breath
--anyway, in between all that and about two dozen other little things, we women all took a couple hours off on the Tuesday before the Thursday wedding to eat and drink and do lots of translating. Nonna has this adorable (everything about Nonna is adorable, don't you know by now?) tendency to talk to everyone as though they fully and completely understand Italian even though they may not know more than ciao or grazie. So if you're lucky enough to speak both languages and you're in mixed American and Italian company you'll probably be spending lots of time with Nonna. I love her to the moon and back plus it was fun getting to know Lamb's soon-to-be family and friends better, so it was a win-win situation.
I wish I had pictures of the cooking class Marmousch led. Homemade pasta is always a treat but when it's malloreddus consider yourself doubly blessed. While that was happening, Simona and I readied the
courtyard for lunch. The papel picado flags were hung and stray forks