A Taste for the Grape

That Good Vino dept.

“Well,” said Ted Farber to his wife, Flora, after a tour of Leonardo da Vinci’s machine designs in Firenze, “Those machines are a lot more interesting than all that art we looked at.”

“Very useful,” offered Flora.

“Yeah,” said Ted, “But not as useful as all that! We lost our table at the restaurant while we were in there!”

“Well,” said Flora, “I don’t mind waiting. Do you?”

“I guess not,” said Ted. “Long as they got that good vino.” He pronounced it vine-o.

Flora smiled and took his hand. It had taken her two weeks in Italy to get Ted to skip beer for one meal and try the wine. But since then—and that was three days ago—he had acquired a newfound taste for the grape.

“Let’s sit on that bench,” said Flora.

“Sure,” said Ted, “Sure. We can do that.”

They sat. The wooden bench creaked.

A little poodle walked by. It stopped to pee on a statue.

“Oughta be on a leash,” said Ted. “Gotta be leash laws around here.”

A couple ambled by, slurping gelato.

“They sure do go for their ice cream here,” said Ted.

“Let’s get one!” exclaimed Flora.

“Don’t really go for the sweet stuff,” said Ted, “but I guess you can.”

They walked slowly to the gelateria.

“Say,” said Ted, “There’s a few flavors! Bet there’s not 31, though!”

Ted laughed.

Flora squeezed his hand.

The people in front of them ordered.

“Listen to that,” said Ted. “Those folks got the lingo down good.”

“They’re Italian,” whispered Flora.

“Oh,” said Ted, “how about that.”

Flora pointed to the flavor she wanted. Ted held out a handful of large bills and the gelateria girl took one and gave him some change.

“Bet anything they rip you off,” said Ted.

Flora licked her gelato.

“But what are you gonna do?” said Ted.

They walked along the river.

“Pretty,” said Flora.

“Yeah,” said Ted. “Lots of tourists,” he said, “wouldn’t mind getting away from ‘em.”

Flora blushed a little. “Oh Ted,” she said. She offered her gelato and Ted gave a lick.

“Say,” he said, “Not bad. That’s not terrible at all.”

Flora finished her cone.

“We oughta head up to that Euro Disney sometime,” Ted said. “That’d be real interesting. See how it compares.”

Flora hummed. They would have a lot to tell their friends when they got home.

Ted stopped to pick his teeth, and Flora closed her eyes.

—

Here’s “Red Wine,” a song I wrote with Marshall Crenshaw: