John poured our water and we touched glasses as if we were drinking wine. The difficult times we had been through intensified my pleasure. A little rain splashed onto the table, but never mind: we kept dry under the awning; we shared a large sandwich, a "capreze": mozzarella, pesto, tomatoes, plenty of olive oil dripping onto our fingers. The sandwiches are a wonder: tasty, large, fresh! The bread superb--we always get rustico--and have our sandwich grilled--rain coming down, a hot crusty sandwich, tender cheese, basil with a little sting.
I've bought their fresh pasta to cook and eat at home. Now they've opened a grocery as well, where you can buy such things as quince paste; there's wine, too, with a bin of staff favorites, many of them under twenty dollars.
Friends are coming for brunch on Sunday. Tomorrow I'll go back to Dave's for quince paste and one of those volcano-shaped cakes of goat cheese. Those and some sweet pastry and savory farmer's tarts from Sofra. No cooking! Sunday will be a scorcher. Temperature in the nineties. Cold white wine--that's what I'll pour.