An unexpected friendship, a Sicilian villa, and a birthday celebration gathered around the table.
Some friendships are simply meant to be.
Years ago, while traveling through the medieval town of San Gimignano in Tuscany, Dan and I met Megan Rosato and her daughter, Zoe. What began as a chance encounter turned into a wonderful day spent cooking chicken and peppers together, sharing stories, laughter and the easy companionship that sometimes happens when strangers discover they have much in common.
Little did we know that years later, we would find ourselves together again, this time at a beautiful villa on the slopes of Mount Etna in Sicily, celebrating Megan’s 60th birthday.
Mount Etna had already erupted just before our arrival. There is something extraordinary about staying in the shadow of an active volcano, knowing that beneath all that beauty lies such tremendous power. It certainly added a little excitement to our Sicilian adventure.
We arrived to find a gathering of wonderful people, including Megan’s husband, Bill, whom we were meeting for the first time. I immediately felt a kinship with him. Like me, he seemed happiest in the kitchen, always cooking, helping and making sure everyone was well fed. I knew right away we were kindred spirits.
Our days took on a lovely, unhurried rhythm. Lazy afternoons beside the villa pool, long conversations, reminiscing about travels and simply enjoying one another’s company. There was no need for elaborate entertainment. Being together was enough.
Although Sicily did provide some rather unexpected entertainment of its own.
One morning, the villa suddenly seemed to be under attack. It was opening day of bird hunting season, and shotgun pellets were actually raining down around us. At first, it was terrifying! Eventually, as unbelievable as it sounds, we grew accustomed to the occasional shower of shot.
I even enlisted Zoe and her friend Clark to collect as many pellets as they could find. My plan is to turn them into a keepsake for Megan someday. After all, how many people can say their 60th birthday celebration came with a volcanic backdrop and a shower of shotgun pellets?
But the most memorable evening of all was the night we decided to cook together.
Each couple would be responsible for a course, creating a meal that became so much more than dinner.
Pasquale and Willie began with an exquisite charcuterie board, overflowing with Sicilian cured meats, cheeses, ripe figs and olives. It was a beautiful celebration of the island’s bounty, the kind of food that needs little embellishment because the ingredients themselves are so extraordinary.
Next came Megan’s pasta course, with a lemon pesto made from special lemons from the island of Procida.
Before arriving in Sicily, Megan and Bill had visited Procida, the island where Bill’s father was from. It was Bill’s first visit, a meaningful journey into his family roots. They had also visited the restaurant featured by Stanley Tucci on his Italian food travels.
That lemon pesto carried something special to our table. It was a taste of another island, but also a connection to Bill’s heritage and a journey that had clearly meant so much.
For my course, I knew exactly what I wanted to make.
Chicken and peppers.
The very same dish we had cooked together on the day we first met in San Gimignano.
There was something deeply satisfying about preparing it again, all these years later, in another Italian kitchen. The recipe hadn’t changed, but our friendship had grown. What had begun as a spontaneous afternoon of cooking in Tuscany had somehow brought us all the way to Sicily.
And now we were gathered around another table, celebrating Megan’s sixty years of life.
Zoe and Clark were in charge of dessert, presenting a delectable tray of Sicilian pastries. It was the perfect sweet ending to an extraordinary meal.
While we prepared the meal, Italian music filled the kitchen. We sang “Volare” at the top of our lungs and danced our way through the cooking. Before long, the kitchen had become its own little stage, filled with music, movement and the kind of unrestrained happiness that needs no explanation.
At some point, Zoe and Clark began singing Stevie Wonder’s birthday song, using wine and prosecco bottles as microphones.
No elaborate production. No perfect choreography. Just pure joy.
And isn’t that what a birthday should be?
There is an Italian saying, A tavola non si invecchia, meaning “At the table, one does not grow old.”
I cannot think of a more fitting sentiment for Megan’s 60th birthday.
On another evening, we played Left Right Center with pennies, and Megan won every game. Her winning streak became another source of laughter and good-natured teasing, the kind of simple fun that makes time together feel even more memorable.
As our week drew to a close, Mount Etna reminded us once again who was really in charge. Our departing flight was delayed for several hours, and the volcano erupted again shortly after we left.
But when I think back on Sicily, it isn’t the volcano or even the unusual hazards of hunting season that I remember most.
It is bustling around the kitchen, the beauty of a table laden with Sicilian food, lemon pesto from Procida, a familiar chicken and peppers dish, pennies scattered across the table, Italian music filling the air, and two young people singing into wine bottles.
Most of all, it is the generosity of an invitation and the remarkable way a chance meeting can grow into a treasured friendship.
We came to Sicily to celebrate Megan turning sixty.
We left with something equally precious: another chapter in a friendship that began around a table in Tuscany and continues to grow, one shared meal, song and game at a time.
And that is the heart of Gathered.
Until next time,
Darlene
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