Pizza i Dugi Ručak

Chiara je zatvorila laboratorij za dugi talijanski ručak u jedan sat. "Pođi sa mnom," rekla je.

Chiara closed the lab for the long Italian lunch at one o'clock. "Come with me," she said.

Polly je sjedila na njezinom ramenu. Chiara je izašla na svijetlo podne u parku i krenula uzbrdo.

Polly perched on her shoulder. Chiara walked out into the bright noon of the park and turned uphill.

Napulj za vrijeme ručka bio je drugačiji grad. Škure su se podizale. Espresso barovi su se punili. Jutarnji miris soli i bora pretvorio se u miris češnjaka i rajčice kuhane na visokoj vatri.

Naples at lunch was a different city. Shutters were rolling up. Espresso bars were filling. The morning smell of salt and pine had turned to garlic and tomato cooked over a high flame.

Chiara ju je odvela u malu pizzeriju u sporednoj ulici. Unutra su tri muškarca radila na peći na drva koja je ispunjavala stražnji zid. Vatra je bila dovoljno jaka da se osjeti s vrata.

Chiara took her to a small pizzeria on a side street. Inside, three men were working at a wood-burning oven that filled the back wall. The fire was hot enough to feel from the door.

Pizza u Napulju nije ono što većina svijeta naziva pizzom. To je napuljska pizza. Grad je čuvao pravila za nju dvjesto godina. Tijesto je od brašna, vode, soli i kvasca, i ništa drugo. Rajčice su San Marzano, uzgojene u vulkanskom tlu na padinama Vezuva. Sir je svjež tog jutra. Bosiljak je sirov, dodan na kraju. Peć radi na 485 stupnjeva Celzijusa. Pizza se peče devedeset sekundi.

A pizza in Naples is not what most of the world calls pizza. It is a Neapolitan pizza. The city has guarded the rules for it for two hundred years. The dough is flour, water, salt, and yeast, and nothing else. The tomatoes are San Marzano, grown in volcanic soil on the slopes of Vesuvius. The cheese is fresh that morning. The basil is raw, added at the end. The oven runs at 485 degrees Celsius. The pizza cooks for ninety seconds.

Pizzaiolo je ubacio margherita pizzu u peć. Devedeset sekundi kasnije izvukao ju je van. Kora je bila prekrivena tamnim leopardovim mrljama. Sir se rastopio u blijede lokvice.

The pizzaiolo slid a margherita pizza into the oven. Ninety seconds later he pulled it out. The crust had blistered into dark leopard spots. The cheese had melted into pale pools.

Chiara je Polly pružila mali komad kore. Bio je slan, zagoren i gotovo bez težine. Polly je razumjela zašto je grad proveo dva stoljeća štiteći ovu stvar.

Chiara handed Polly a small piece of crust. It was salty and charred and almost weightless. Polly understood why the city had spent two centuries protecting this thing.

"Postoji teorija," rekla je Chiara, "da su hobotnice pametne jer kratko žive. Moraju brzo učiti. Mi smo pametni jer dugo živimo. Možemo si priuštiti učiti polako. Pasta će naučiti sve što zna za još dvije godine. Ja ću još uvijek učiti kad umrem."

"There is a theory," Chiara said, "that octopuses are smart because they are short-lived. They have to learn fast. We are smart because we are long-lived. We can afford to learn slowly. Pasta will learn everything she knows in two more years. I will still be learning when I die."

Polako su se vraćale. Poslijepodne je bilo toplo.

They walked back slowly. The afternoon was warm.