Neighborhood Old Italian

I participated in an election recently. The lone candidate made no campaign speeches. In fact, he didn't even know he was running for anything. I was the only voter. The office? Neighborhood Old Italian.

The proprietor of Kakulas (see "These are a Few of My Favorite Things, 2-10-09) suggested that the best people to ask about sourcing quality produce and herbs were our Neighborhood Old Italians (NOI). Handy that my once-Italian neighborhood still has a few hanging around. All too easy to access information about growing herbs in pots at the house and where to find U-pick produce...provided you make a valuable alliance to start with. Enter Carlo, my NOI. He has a very large property on my street with its garden up at eye level. There are bushes to obscure the view from quick-handed opportunists , but not to an interested pair of eyes. Eventually, I started pestering Carlo for advice on why my tomatoes weren't thriving and then where I can get fresh oregano (he gave me a cutting) and then, can I borrow your spade? And so on.

I find his help invaluable, although he downplays it (His dad was the real expert in the family.) I've been given the "tour" of his garden. He's been in Australia enough years to know what you can plant each season - and there are four planting seasons here. When a crop doesn't work for whatever reason, he is annoyed. And cackles like an old thief when tomato or purple bean seeds smuggled in from the old country take off with abundant produce. A perfect place to putter for retiree. Just ask his two brothers-in-law also living on our street. His two sisters live a mere stone's throw from his house. They also have large gardens and Italian accents too thick to figure out. One, Domenic? Guido?, gave me a rosemary cutting to plant and lemons whenever they are ripe.

Carlo is also my connection. I prefer to pick the tomatoes I sauce and can. No U-pick farms anywhere. But Carlo has a choir mate named Nick, who knows somebody who grows tomatoes in great quantity. December is harvest month...Perth is too hot for tomatoes any later than this...and when Paesan's tomatoes are ripe, I am allowed to come over and pick. Under his direct supervision. Sign me up! Carlo thinks the Paesan is wrapped a little too tight and that I am nuts for agreeing to the terms. But Carlo recognizes a fellow fussy customer in his American neighbor and appreciates one with discriminating tastes.

And I appreciate my Neighborhood Old Italian.