Page 17 - Italian-American Herald - November 2022

THE CHEF’S PERSPECTIVE
A special memory of a celestial night of food in Positano
View of Positano village along Amalfi Coast
in Italy at dusk.
ITALIAN-AMERICAN HERALD
NOVEMBER2022 | ITALIANAMERICANHERALD.COM 17
By Murray Schulman
The night began on the terrace of
Le Agave Hotel,
a five-star facility that boasted one of the most amazing
views in Positano. I stood there lost in the smell of the sea. The gentle waves lapped
at the shoreline, and I could hear that
gentle splash from the great height of our terrace. Soft music flowed through space
and gently awakened my senses. Below,
the lights of small and large boats twinkled against the dark, gently rolling water of the Mediterranean Sea. Already seduced by the legendary Sirens of Li Galli, I slowly turned my back on the sea to look up into the mountain. I remember being drawn to the lights and the raw power of those cliffs. I was fully absorbed in that quiet moment standing alone on that terrace. My mind was free and I was completely at peace.
I felt a gentle touch on my arm and turned to find my wife Liz clinging to my arm dressed in a simple yet enticing outfit, ready for dinner and more adventures in Positano. I was enthralled as the beautiful surroundings and aromas combined with her sparkling eyes and a hint of lemony scent. This promised to be a perfect night.
During our stay at Le Agave, we befriended the night manager of the property. He spoke understandable English and he enjoyed and found some comic relief in my feeble attempts to communicate in Italian. Yet we became friends, and he still writes to me on occasion even now, nearly six years later.
He told us to be patient as he would arrange for us to have a car and driver pick us up. We were fine with that because in Italy, dinner does not usually start until around 8:30 p.m. Plus, having transportation was very convenient. I didn’t really want to drive those roads in Positano at night.
Right on time, our transportation arrived. The driver greeted us in Italian that I
happened to understand. He then informed us that we were going to a restaurant called La Tagliata (The Cut). We thanked him and sat back to enjoy the drive. Our relaxation came to an abrupt stop when the driver made a sharp left turn directly into the mountain. All I could see was a solid wall of rock. Miraculously, a tiny road appeared hewn into the rock wall. Now at what felt like breakneck speed our driver zigged and zagged up the ridiculously steep incline of an ever-narrowing road in to the mountain. Suddenly, the driver stopped the car and informed us that we had arrived. I looked around and said, “arrived where?”
We were stopped on an extremely steep narrow drive surrounded by the mountain. As I looked closer, I caught a glimpse of a tiny arbor marked as an entrance. We stepped into this entranceway where Liz discovered an old-fashioned phone box. I was able to
get it open to find a phone. I picked it up and after hearing several beeps buzzes and static, a voice said “Ciao.” This voice told me to stay where I was and he would come to get me. Since the car was long gone, it was dark and we were on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, I decided that waiting was our best option. A few minutes later, the door to a tiny elevator opened and a very friendly young man greeted us into the elevator. It was a tight squeeze, and I had my doubts about our survival. But down we went. The doors of the elevator opened, and we stepped out. We were greeted by an open-air dining room with a clear view of the sea on one side and the stone face of the mountain on the other.
It was a weeknight, and the place was filled with a few tourists like us. But mostly locals. The aromas wafting from the kitchen quickly had my stomach growling and I was excited. We were promptly seated at our table. Immediately, we were offered an unlabeled house red and white wine. Along with the wine came basic wine glasses and a corkscrew. The entire restaurant staff were family members. We didn’t have a specific
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