Wednesday Tony Manzo surprised Grandpa with a visit, bearing grapes, stories of Abruzzi, and memories of Paesano-antics back in their Hilton days. They enjoyed aged Provalone from Aruthur Avenue in the Bronx (thanks to Napa and Mikkel's special delivery from New York). They filled the house with robust Italian adages, which only they understood (but graciously translated): "Getting old's a bitch, isn't it?" was the approximation. Their friendship transcends age.
As you may know, Tony baked loaves and focaccia for Tony Manzo's ristorante over twenty years ago--which this family always knew was our best kept secret. Not at Tony Manzo's. That's where Hawai'i had it's chance to taste what we grew up spoiled with eating. Friday, Grandpa supervised while I attempted to learn the art of his bread.
Uncle made the best bread in town, we even put him to work when in would visit us in California. Our requests were bread, pizza and adobo.
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