The Runaway Cook

It's the last of my time in this beautiful town and about time I stock up on some food before everything closes again. I can already feel myself missing this place in the future. Someday I will come back to you Amalfi.

As I walked out of the small grocers I happened to bump into another tenant from my hostel. I almost always find this soft-spoken gentleman carrying a  large backpack and on his way to climb these gargantuan mountains. But today Mr. Japan has spotted me. As we chat, we both share our sadness in our impending leaving. Then with a twinkle in his eye and smirk in the corner of his mouth he tells me to wait.

He asks me, "Have you eaten granita?" Though I have walked many times up and down this street, I never happened upon this stairway that lead to a little shop selling lemon granita. Outside the door couples and children gather in small wooden benches among the crates and baskets of lemons. Each person, holding a cup of pale, yellow slush covered with their choice of fresh fruit.

"You have to try this" is all that comes out of Mr. Japan's mouth, over and over even after I am convinced.

Soon a clear cup is in my hands, with a smorgasbord of fruits nearly overflowing from the rim. Fresh pineapple, strawberries, melon, kiwi, and of course a fresh plum-colored cherry on top. Each bit was sweet from the oozing syrup-like fruit juices and tart from the slush of fresh lemon crystals.  It's nothing like the granita I've been taught how to make at school, smaller crystals and more juice.  Each bite is different, lovely, and mouthwatering

Thank you Mr. Japan for enlightening me to this sweetly sour ice.