My Journal by Harriman Nelson- Lean on Me

37

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My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

37

“How can anyone not like Tortellini?” Chip asked sadly, more to himself, as we headed to the Wardroom for lunch. It was all over the boat now, that Lee had in effect, snubbed his nose at the fine fare last night.

“Mr. Morton,” Cookie said as soon as we sat down. “I know you were looking forward to the Tortellini I had planned for today, but I really can’t do it justice with what we have in stores. Besides, the skipper doesn’t like it and that’s what I was trying to do here, make something he’d be sure to like from this wacky tour of his.  But I did figure out something  for lunch that can’t go wrong. Something the skip would like and that honors the town they’re at, well, for most of the day, that is. Doesn’t  include the car place. C’mon guys, bring out today’s special!”

The culinary creation was laid out on the sideboard and Cookie stood by the platters proudly.

“Bologna Sandwiches!" he said, "and before you say anything, Admiral, I did some checking, and American Bologna is based on the Mortadella Sausage of the town. Basically it’s pork with added fat in it like ours, only theirs has a few little extras and looks a bit different. Don’t know quite how theirs tastes, but hey, these will do in a pinch...’sides, I know the skipper likes ‘em. Oh, and you’ll be glad to hear that the car place the skip’s going to today, well, it has a restaurant, so he won’t go hungry while he’s playing with the Ferraris and Lamborghinis.”

Playing with cars. Yes, it was exactly what Lee was doing today. It was difficult not to laugh at my vision of juvenile Lee with toy cars.

“Mnnn,” Chip mumbled as he bit into his sandwich, “Cookie, this is good. Really good.”

“Thank you, sir!” he replied and headed back to the tween through with a huge smile on his face.

And we had smiles on our faces. In fact, Chip downed three sandwiches. I downed four! As for the Mac &Cheese Cookie told us was on the menu for tonight, well, it might not be Italian, but I was sure it would be good. How can anything go wrong with homemade pasta.

I had to wonder how Jackson was doing in his pasta making class, still wishing he’d gone along with Lee to Maranello, I bet. As for me, I keep crossing my fingers that Lee didn’t take the wrong bus and got himself lost.

What had I called Italy’s public transportation? ‘Iffy’? Well, it had been when I’d been there. Perhaps things had changed. Perhaps I was worried over nothing. Lee certainly knew how to read maps or a bus schedule. But not in Italian. Oh joy.

Entry #38