Babbo. It was a rainy Friday afternoon, and so a glass of red wine seemed very much in order. No doubt you agree. I have no idea what the wine was, as the bartender poured me something based on a string of somewhat silly adjectives (I know nothing about Italian wine), but, yum.
As we went to leave the restaurant, we opened the door to a complete and total downpour. The hostess let us know that it would rain on and off all afternoon, and said she hoped we had umbrellas. We did, and it did, but I hardly noticed a thing. I was too busy dreaming of eggplant.