Two months ago when James was planning his trip to Paris, he sent me an email asking if I’d want to visit his friends in Naples. Evidently his friend, Frank Jr., and his family were spending the summer at his parent’s house. I had to think about that for all of three seconds before responding with a resounding YES!!!!

We arrive at the Naples airport late afternoon and are met by Frank Jr. and a driver. They quickly whisk us out of Naples and along the coastline South. We pass Mt. Vesuvius which has a striking resemblance to Mt. Saint Helens with it’s top blown off. The views along the coast are breathtaking with crystal turquoise water under azure skies. Since it’s our first time in Italy, the driver stops several times along the way so we can be tourists and take pictures.

An hour later, we are deposited safely at the family home. I say safely because driving in Italy is a game of chicken requiring nerves of steel. I’m learning that traffic laws don’t really apply as we drive the wrong way down a one way street.

The house is nestled in a valley surrounded by lush hills planted with olives, oranges and lemons. The smell of citrus perfumes the air as we step out of the car. A beautifully planted garden shelters the house from the sun and the street. Frank Jr. tells us the house is over 300 years old.

As we walk in the front door, we’re greeted by Hillary, Frank’s wife, and his two beautiful daughters, Sofia and Francesca. Then Frank’s dad, Frank Sr., ambles out to say hello. His smile is bright and he seems excited to have guests. For 20 years, Frank Sr. owned an Italian deli in New Jersey, so he and his wife speak perfect English.

Once we tour the house, we set our belongings down in our room on the third floor. And then we do the next logical thing in Italy – eat. Even though it’s 5:00 PM, we’re famished. I had heard that meals with Italian families are major events, but nothing could have prepared me for what was to come.

We start of course with wine. Frank Sr. makes his own from the grapes he grows in his garden. The vines must be at least 100 years old, so the grapes give a fabulous character to the wine. It’s a gorgeous deep red with hints of fruit on the nose. The flavor is light and fresh – no chemicals or aging in oak barrels. It’s pure and delicious. Frank Sr. teaches us it’s best with a slice of lemon from his garden and a little bit of Gassosa – a 7UP-like drink. At first I’m skeptical, but one taste and I’m sold. Who would have thought this combination would taste so good?

For our first course, we have a deep orange slice of melon wrapped in proscuitto. With the melon comes a few small balls of fresh bufalo mozzerella. Evidently the cheese was made fresh this morning and delivered by a farmer just up the hill. Frank Sr. has a red t-shirt that he ties to his gate whenever he wants cheese or butter so the farmer knows to stop and deliver.

Next comes the pasta – al dente of course! We’re having penne with a Bolognese sauce made from scratch. It’s absolutely perfect and oh so simple although I’m sure Frank Sr. has been simmering the sauce all day. I ooh and aah with every bite because I just can’t help myself.

When we’re finished with our paste, we get a surprise – artichokes. But these aren’t regular artichokes. No, these are stuffed with garlic, lemon, breadcrumbs and herbs. They’ve been cooking for hours, so they’re melt-in-your-mouth tender. I have two.

Salad is next, and it’s so simple and pure. It’s a mixture of lettuce, olive oil, garlic, lemon juice and salt. It sounds so simple yet I don’t think I’d be able to recreate it at home. Here’s why. The lettuce was picked this morning out of Frank Sr’s garden. The lemon was picked fresh just before dinner from the tree out front. The olive oil was pressed from local olives just up the hill. The thing I really appreciate about Italian food is that flavors are cherished and speak for themselves. Nothing gets covered up by heavy sauces or unnecessary ingredients.

With the salad we are given a slice of basket cheese that was delivered with the mozzarella this morning. Fresh cheese curds are placed in a little plastic basket so the whey drains away. The cheese is not yet aged, so it’s fresh and creamy.

For dessert, we keep it simple with cherries and nespoli. I’ve never set eyes on a nespoli before, but it’s quite possibly the most perfect fruit I’ve tasted. It looks like an apricot with golden yellow-orange flesh and a sweet aroma. Once the thin skin is peeled away, the flesh is tender, juicy and sweet. Simple outstanding. These of course are also grown in the garden and were picked fresh that morning.

Oh but we’re not done yet! James told them that I drink coffee that couldn’t be further from the truth. But when in Sorrento….. Frank Sr. sets a very tiny cup of coffee in front of me. It’s flavored with sugar, an anise liquor and a slice of lemon. It’s truly amazing. If coffee really tasted like this back in the States, I’d be an addict.

James asks Frank Sr. about his homemade limoncello. And that’s where everything rapidly goes down hill – at least for James. Frank Sr. pulls a bottle from the cupboard filled with a golden yellow liquid. Frank Sr. uses the lemons he grows in his garden and carefully peels off the skin. He then boils the skins with grain alcohol to make a potent yet pure liquor. It tastes just like freshly picked lemons – with a punch. Frank Sr. pours James a generous glass.

Frank Sr. returns to the cupboard and pulls out two more bottles. There’s a deep purple one made from wild blueberries grown on the hill and a light orange one made from the tangerines gown in the garden. They’re both exquisite in flavor and taste just like the real fruit (with a whole lot of alcohol thrown in for good measure). We relish the flavor of each one.

After a quick tour of the garden where Frank Sr. grows lettuce, green beans, tomatoes, spinach, broccoli, lemons, oranges, figs, grapefruit, nespoli, mangos, basil, zucchini and brussel sprouts, we take a walk into town. We take the “old road” which is paved with volcanic stones carved out of the neighboring hillsides. It winds down through the valley and deposits us in the town of Meta di Sorrento. We find the nearest gelato store and partake. The evening is warm with just a hint of a breeze, so we sit in the piazza (square) and lick our cones. Once darkness falls, we head back up the old road for the house.

As I’m getting ready for bed, I step out on the rooftop patio that adjourns our room. I can see the ocean from here and the glittering lights of Naples across the water. Cruise ships are decked out in tiny white lights in the harbor and the reflection dances on the calm water. The moon is a perfect sliver above while the stars blanket the sky. I still can’t believe I’m here.

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