Our Guest today: Nico Tortorella (and yes we know he's American, but we're cooking for his Italian ancestors)

Inviting the gorgeous Nico Tortorella and his Italian ancestors to our lunch would be easy to write about, so I thought. It was indeed a spectacular setting, and the lunch that went on for hours was like sitting in an old Italian village with people you love. Food, wine, music, deep thought, frivolous giggles and more food kept on rolling in. But to write about Nico and our conversation was hard. Mostly I think because I don't belong to Nico's world. I understand it, and love it, and will stand up for anyone who needs me, but it's not my battle. And so I tried writing about it humbly, over here: 

Nico Tortorella with his Italian blood and our South African landscape

The Threshold

So, we all arrived on The Farm. The one that belong to our dear friends Catherine and Herman. (They had emigrated to the UK, but had left their little farm in South-Africa behind, like an orphan or a gemstone.) I’ve refused to go back there. Without Catherine who always put stronke in the old Aga to keep the the kitchen warm, I believed there could be no Farm. Without Herman, who meditated in the hen house, there could be no Plaas. And so I stayed safely in the city. With memories. Indescribable memories of a friendship so deep it hurts to think about it. 

But Helen kept on asking. And later begging. They have been, and it was okay, she promised. Let's go, please let's go. 

 

We gave in. Easter/Ishtar weekend, we decided. And to mix things up, we would Eat and Believe there too, and Helen asked the The Kids if they would like to cook. They agreed.  

 

The wind didn’t blow when we arrived. Everything lay still, as if waiting for us. The pink grassland held its breath, watching us get out of the cars. Tails wagged on the farm dogs. We were all standing on the threshold of something that almost couldn’t be described. 

 

One step forward, and we would fall into this world of stillness. Nothingness. One step back and we would stumble into being unable to change. We would be stuck. Like an old person who cannot face the new world after a revolution. 

 

We entered the farm house with deliberation. The man who wore his granny’s tea cosy as a beanie, and his wife who could sew perfect clothes out of curtains, left the farmhouse as is. Almost to a T. With pictures against the walls and rice in the cupboard and granny’s furniture in the living room. They left old batteries in the drawers and plasters in the bathroom cabinet. Pillows were stashed in the ancient kist and Buddhist flags still hung on the veranda. 

 

Teenager chef, a windpomp and grass, with Mauritz on the left

I had to get out. I couldn’t be here without them. How does one Eat and Believe with such loss? I put on my running shoes, and went out, down the stofpad. When I was sure that nobody could hear me I screamed Catherine and Herman and their children's names into the grass. I screamed till I cried. What could make this better?

 

Back home Zenobia, who had never been on the farm, put a whole trout in the oven, and Mauritz brought out the pickled fish, and I made a salad. Mauritz helped Zen with the Okonomiyaki. And as we sat down for our Friday Easter/Ishtrar meal. Everything started changing. 

The teenagers laughed.

A breeze started from the east.

My taste buds flew to Nirvana.

The lost and found threshold beckoned us to give a new step forward.

Our other teenage chef: such flair! 

On the other side

Saturday 

2 o’clock.

Nico Tortorella arrived in a big American car with a huge Italian flag from the side window… (This is fantasy for those who don’t know us. Nico is an American writer, actor, poet, model and influencer +spokesperson for the LGBTQ+ community. They are married to the beautiful Bethany Meyers, fitness instructor and influencer and both of them use they them pronouns.)

Bethany and Nico on their wedding day: So beautiful! 

Conversation around the table was led by the teenagers, and mostly Zenobia. This is indeed the teens' revolution. Of course they should be right in it. With gusto. It is another threshold for my generation. We have to stay in step with this waltz, in order not to be left behind. For, we all decided, to be stuck in our own generation's thinking, without dipping our toes into  the younger generation's thought-pond would make you as bland and loveless as a statue. 

My conclusion after many glasses of wine, was that people are indeed people. Just people. Love them, respect them, dance with them, have tea, invite them to dinner. Stand up for them when they need you. Be kind. Be beyond. Be. Love. Flush your prejudice down the drain. And we thanked Bethany and Nico for their work. And then Rebecca brought out the antipasto.  

Sun dappled our table, and the flags said prayers in the wind. One plate was beautifully laid out with Italian salami, prosciutto and lardo. In between were slices of mozzarella, parmasano and pecorino. A bowl of toasted bruschetta invited us to also lay into the roasted peppers the rocket pesto, olive tapenade and artichokes. 

I had plenty of these plates and went to heaven

We poured champagne, and continued the conversation around Nico and Bethany and how they campaign for harmony amongst people in such a humble and respectful way. Hannes made the sourdough, used for the next meal, and Emily and her father brought out the pizza. It's beauty and simplicity took our breath away.

Simple tomato and prosciutto with rocket on the left and basil on the right

We were dancing at this stage, giggling into the brightness of the day. Zenobia insisted on a photo shoot. Inside we went and we rummaged through the cupboards and found some interesting outfits to wear. Off we set to the decaying walls of the old klipkraal, everyone with a utencil from the kitchen. 

Zenobia and the butter churner with windpomp and sunset

While we took a billion pictures of ourselves in our robes, I knew what pushed me over the threshold into the land of acceptance: Zenobia. Her energy, her love... the way in which she leads... It's all filled from a place of joy. And that's what kept ALL of us together this weekend. Without her we would have fallen apart. Her fresh eyes, her soft hands, her ideas and within the way she moves, we could all move too.  Her way of making the teenagers such a huge part of this, kept the party afloat. (And now the farm was left behind like a gemstone I thought, and not like an orphan!) 

 Nico's book "All of it is you" (What a title!) 

Back at the table Emily read some of Nico's poems. And they spoke to me as if I knew them, like children of my own. We had to breathe deeply here, for there were still 3 courses to go! 

We moved inside. The night had a chill. 

Salad. 

And then Emily and Mauritz started with the Amatriciana. This is a fancy Italian word my friends, go look it up. If you are vegetarian or vegan, don't. It tasted like Italy on a Sunday afternoon.

Amatriciana with basil

By now Aidan, our last chef, had to feature with his dessert of choice: a strawberry cheesecake. How Italian it is, none of us asked. His mind was set. Helen was his helper, and it was the perfect way to end the day. (The little heart shapes were given to him by his Ouma J, the recipe book was given to him by his Ouma L)

The making of included licking the bowl

Our third chef's cheesecake

We were Italian for a day. And we were with Nico, and Bethany too. With each other. And with you. Viva Unconditional Love. 

Afrikaans words: a translation

stronke = cobs

AGA = type of stove

plaas = farm

kist = chest (for storage)

stofpad = gravel road

klipkraal = enclosure for animals, made out of natural stone

Ouma = granny

Extras, as always:

• A Poem I wrote for Nico 

• The Amatriciana was made using Vincenzo's recipe. Get it here. (All his recipes are to die for)
• My favourite-favourite poet, maybe of all time, is Alok Vaid-Menon. Watch till the very end, because their words make you cry, it makes you understand, it shows you empathy, it stands on its own, and it makes you the One who would get up on a train and hug a stranger who needs you.  They talk about how they exist outside of the heteronormative binary. It's beautiful. Watch with kind eyes.