Broken Hearts On Boulevard Unirii novel Chapter 12

Angelo suddenly emerged out of nowhere, turned to me and said, "Come with me Giorgio, let's take a ride around the neighborhood."

We got into the car and Angelo, who was driving, started the engine.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Let's find a place where we can have an authentic Romanian meal, which only Romanian farmers know how to prepare."

"Do you know somebody in the area?"

"No, but we will find something," he replied confidently.

We turned on a road that cut through the mountains After a short ride that was bumpy as the roads were full of potholes, Angelo turned onto a narrow path that led to a small village. As we approached the village we saw houses that were extremely neglected, dilapidated wood huts and stone houses without plaster. Everything looked so poor and forlorn.

There were hardly any people around. On the side of the road we saw several children. One of them was a little boy with swollen eyes who was holding the hand of an older girl, apparently his sister. The boy looked at us through his half opened eyes.

"What happened to him?" Angelo asked the girl.

"He was attacked by bees that stung his eyes," the girl answered.

Angelo handed him a chocolate bar that he had in the car. The boy looked at it questioningly, as though he had never seen chocolate in his life.

"Eat," said Angelo. "It's good."

He opened the packet and bit off a small piece to taste it. His whole expression suddenly changed and he put half the bar into his mouth. His sister grabbed the other half from his hand and put it into her mouth.

"Do you know anybody in the area who knows how to cook real well?" Angelo inquired.

They both pointed to a large house surrounded by a high wooden fence.

"Her name is Doamna[Mrs.] Sofia and she cooks for all the weddings in the village.

"That's exactly what we were looking for," Angelo said.

We got out of the car and approached the farmhouse. As we opened the rusty iron gate, a huge sheepdog came running towards us exposing his large teeth. I quickly backed off, while Angelo courageously faced the dog. The dog stopped in his tracks and stopped barking. It bowed its head and walked over to Angelo, looking to be stroked.

On the way back, Angelo told me, that for that price all you could get was a meal for four at an average restaurant in Bucharest.

Towards evening we all got ready, dressed nicely, and lined up ready to go out for the gourmet meal at the "home" restaurant of Doamna Sofia. We got into the cars and off we went.

We drove through the center of the village. The main street was deserted; even the boys who were usually out on the street were gone. We stopped at the entrance, by the iron gate of the big house.

As we entered, we noticed all the members of the household standing in line to welcome us. We had to kiss each one on both cheeks. The Doamna stood at the head of the line, her husband and son next to her, then her daughter-in-law with a baby in her arms and last, her younger daughter who seemed to be suffering from Down syndrome.

The wide courtyard of the house was the center of the family life. A long table was placed in the middle of the yard, on which local wine, delicious-smelling fresh bread, salads, and grilled vegetables were placed.

Chickens, geese and a piglet were running around the courtyard. The piglet looked like he was looking for his brother, who was obviously turning over the charcoal grill with a stake stuck through his entire body.

We sat down around the table as Sofia began giving orders to her family members. She had them bring trays of food from the improvised kitchen in the yard, to our table.

The soup, Ciorbă de Burta, which in our country we call tripa, that was placed in front of me, looked very promising. It was cooked with thinly sliced strips of cow's stomach, with vegetables and bones, along with large lima beans.