If you missed the first part of the story, you can read part 1 here . And if you have no interest, skooch down to check out my Lemon Basil Pesto Recipe
We left off with Erik Carvhalo feeding me the grand cheddar of lines that could only earn a farewell smooch when delivered with a foreign accent.
Erik Cravhalo went off into the sunrise that early Sunday morning to catch his train back to Italy.
A month later, after much adventure around Spain and Portugal, I was hearing rumours of a train strike and so decided to get myself straight over to Italy to commence the Italian leg of the journey. I got as far as Nice when the strike was announced. I looked up at the train schedule and there was just one train that wasn’t sold out. It was to Turin. Hmmm… what could I do in Turin? It hadn’t been on my list of stops but like an Italian smooch in Spain, it hit me. I pulled out my notebook and flipped to the page where Erik Carvhalo had written his contact details.
Sure enough! It was too early to call so I decided to get on the train and hope for the best. When I arrived in Turin, it was mid afternoon. Inserting my lira into the slots of the payphone, I dialed his number.
Ring ring. Ring ring. “Pronto”. This is what Italian’s say when they answer their phone.
“Ciao Erik!” I said. “Meghan. Turin. Estacio train. Pronto!” Languages were never my thing.
Less than an hour later, I found myself in Erik Carvhalo’s battered old BMW. It turned out that Erik Carvhalo, who was well into his 20’s, shared a bedroom with his older brother and lived with his parents.
In the three days I spent in Turin, there was much I learned about Italy, Erik Carvhalo and holiday romances. First, there was no basil to be found anywhere. Second, within moments of entering Erik Carvhalo’s apartment, off came the Diesel jeans as he slipped into something more comfortable, a nylon track suit and leather slippers. Third, he had a penchant for leopard print briefs and gold chains.
Apparently, at 5:30 am after a night of dancing to Ricki Martin, it is easy to be blinded by sangria goggles.
We went for walks, ate Boccio flavoured gelato (think Nutella in ice cream form), looked at buildings, drank with his friends and didn’t have a single conversation. Because I look Italian, Erik’s family and friends kept speaking to me in Italian, only louder than normal. My mom does this with people who don’t speak English. I can confirm right now, volume does not help translate a language.
It was a long three days and I felt a mild sense of relief when Erik Carvhalo took me back to the station to catch a to Milan. I waved out the window as the train pulled out of the station and Erik Cravhalo never heard from me again. And in my three days in Turin, I never once ate a single thing with basil in it.
To make up for it, I have been indulging ever since (in basil, not Italian men). Here is my latest basil creation.
Lemon Basil Pesto
Prep Time: 5 minutes
Cook Time: None
Keywords: blender food processor condiment dairy-free gluten-free vegan vegetarian basil Italian
Ingredients (1 cup)
- 1 Bunch of basil
- 1 lemon, juiced
- ¼ cup sunflower seeds
- ¼ cup olive oil
- 1 Tbs tamari
- 2 cloves garlic, minced
- 1 inch ginger, grated
- salt and/or cayenne to taste
Blend all ingredients together in a food processor or Vitamix.
If you don’t have either, just chop everything up and finely as you can and mix together.
Serve as a dip with veggies, over a pasta, rice, quinoa or fish dish.
Serve as a dip with veggies, over a pasta, rice, quinoa or fish dish, or smear over that hot Italian stallion and savour. Now off to see if I can find a photo of the boy.