Pizza na Chakula cha Mchana Kirefu

Chiara alifunga maabara kwa ajili ya chakula cha mchana kirefu cha Kiitaliano saa saba mchana. "Pweza naye anahitaji mapumziko," alisema. "Na mimi pia. Njoo nami."

Chiara closed the lab for the long Italian lunch at one o'clock. "The octopus needs a break too," she said. "And so do I. Come with me."

Polly aliketi kwenye bega la Chiara, ambapo miwani yake ilipumzika vizuri dhidi ya kola ya koti la maabara. Chiara alitembea nje kwenye mwangaza wa mchana wa bustani ya Villa Comunale na kuelekea mlimani.

Polly perched on Chiara's shoulder, where her glasses rested neatly against the lab coat collar. Chiara walked out into the bright noon of the Villa Comunale park and turned uphill.

Napoli wakati wa chakula cha mchana ilikuwa mji uliopata nguvu mpya. Madirisha yaliyokuwa yamefungwa dhidi ya joto la asubuhi yalikuwa yakifunguliwa. Mabaraza ya espresso yalijaa wanaume waliovaa suti na wanawake waliovaa viatu virefu. Harufu ambayo ilikuwa chumvi na mvinyo asubuhi sasa ilikuwa vitunguu saumu na mafuta ya kukaanga na nyanya zilizopikwa juu ya moto mkali.

Naples at lunch was a city in its second wind. Shutters that had been closed against the late-morning heat were rolling up. Espresso bars were filling with men in suits and women on heels. The smell that had been salt and pine in the morning was now garlic and frying oil and tomato cooked over a high flame.

Chiara alimpeleka kwenye pizzeria ndogo katika mtaa wa pembeni wa Riviera di Chiaia. Kibao kilisomeka DA MICHELE - SUCCURSALE. Ndani, wanaume watatu walikuwa wakifanya kazi kwenye tanuri la kuni ambalo lilijaza nusu ya ukuta wa nyuma. Moto ulikuwa mkali kiasi kwamba Polly aliweza kuuhisi kutoka mlangoni.

Chiara took her to a small pizzeria on a side street off the Riviera di Chiaia. The sign read DA MICHELE - SUCCURSALE. Inside, three men were working at a wood-burning oven that filled half the back wall. The fire was hot enough that Polly could feel it from the door.

Pizza huko Napoli si kile ambacho ulimwengu mwingi huita pizza. Ni pizza ya Neapolitan, iliyotengenezwa chini ya sheria maalum ambazo mji huo umelinda kwa miaka mia mbili. Donge ni unga, maji, chumvi, na hamira, hakuna kingine. Nyanya ni za San Marzano, zinazolimwa kwenye udongo wa volkeno kwenye miteremko ya Vesuvius. Jibini ni fior di latte, safi asubuhi hiyo. Basil huongezwa mwishoni, mbichi. Tanuri linaendeshwa kwa nyuzi 485 za Celsius. Pizza hupikwa kwa sekunde tisini.

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

Pizzaiolo, mwanamume mnene mwenye mikono iliyopakwa unga, aliteleza pizza ya margherita kwenye kielelezo cha mbao na ndani ya tanuri. Sekunde tisini baadaye aliitoa. Kando ilikuwa imechubuka na kuwa na madoa meusi yanayoitwa leoparding. Jibini lilikuwa limeyeyuka na kuwa mabwawa mepesi. Majani ya basil yalikuwa tayari yameanza kunyauka katika joto lililobaki.

The pizzaiolo, a heavy man with floured forearms, slid a margherita pizza onto a wooden peel and into the oven. Ninety seconds later he pulled it out. The crust had blistered into dark spots called leoparding. The cheese had melted into pale pools. The basil leaves were already starting to wilt in the residual heat.

Pizza ililiwa bila kisu, katika robo zilizokunjwa, kwa mikono. Chiara alimpa Polly kipande kidogo cha ukoko kutoka kwenye kipande chake mwenyewe. Kilikuwa na chumvi, kimechomeka mahali ambapo madoa ya chui yalikuwa yamejitokeza, na kilikuwa chepesi karibu na uzito. Polly alielewa, katika mlo wa kwanza, kwa nini Napoli ilitumia karne mbili kulinda kitu hiki. Ukoko ulionja moto na mkate na chumvi na volkeno upande wa mbali wa ghuba.

The pizza was eaten without a knife, in folded quarters, with the hands. Chiara handed Polly a small piece of crust from her own slice. It was salty, charred where the leopard spots had formed, and almost weightless. Polly understood, in the first bite, why Naples had spent two centuries protecting this thing. The crust tasted of fire and bread and salt and the volcano on the far side of the bay.

Chiara alikula pizza yake kwa mikunjo mitano ya haraka na kunywa glasi ndogo ya maji ya madini yenye mabulbuli. Kwenye chumba hicho, mwanamume na mama yake mzee walikuwa wakibishana kwa upendo kuhusu timu ya mpira wa miguu. Nje, Vespa ilipita kwa sauti ya chini.

Chiara ate her pizza in five quick folds and drank a small glass of mineral water with bubbles. Across the room, a man and his elderly mother were arguing affectionately about the football team. Outside, a Vespa puttered past.

"Kuna nadharia," Chiara alisema, akichukua jani la mwisho la basil, "kwamba pweza ni werevu kwa sababu wanaishi kwa muda mfupi. Wanahitaji kujifunza haraka. Sisi ni werevu kwa sababu tunaishi kwa muda mrefu. Tunaweza kumudu kujifunza polepole. Pasta atajifunza kila kitu anachojua labda kwa miaka miwili zaidi. Mimi bado nitakuwa najifunza nitakapokufa." Aliweka basil mdomoni mwake. "Hakuna hukumu katika hili. Ni wazo tu."

"There is a theory," Chiara said, picking up the last leaf of basil, "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 maybe two more years. I will still be learning when I die." She put the basil in her mouth. "There is no judgement in this. It is only a thought."

Walitembea kurudi kwenye taasisi polepole. Alasiri ilikuwa ya joto. Polly aliketi kwenye bega la Chiara, na mji ulizunguka wao kwa mwendo usio na haraka wa saa ya chakula cha mchana ya Napoli ambayo haikuwa imeisha kabisa, na haitamalizika kabisa hadi saa tisa.

They walked back to the institute slowly. The afternoon was warm. Polly perched on Chiara's shoulder, and the city moved around them at the unhurried pace of a Naples lunch hour that had not really ended yet, and would not really end until three.