Mattia Polibio Family Restaurant Novels & Stories

I laughed, “I swear I have told you this before.” He shook his head. “Maybe but tell me again.” "Well, my mama’s name is Allegra and my papa is Mattia. They met when they were in high school but he was a big bully. Mom never liked him until one day when mom started dating other guys. Not long after, the two of them got together after my father told my mother that the boy she dated made a bet on her. His parents were rich and dined like my mother since she came from a poor family. His family wanted him to marry someone else but he didn't want to and ended up eloping with mom. It made his parents so angry that they cut him off. He started their small restaurant with his savings and the two of

CHAPTER 17 TB(Throwback) Antonio sat in the extravagant restaurant, the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of fine china creating a sense of refinement and elegance. He sat alongside his father, Donatello, a man whose presence commanded respect and inspired fear. They were in a meeting with Italian's finest business men. Across from them, his mother, Maria, chatted amiably with Ms. Grace, her eyes sparkling with warmth. As the conversation flowed, Maria excused herself, pushing back her chair. "I'll just get something from the car," she said, smiling at Antonio.

Matteo said flatly finally breaking his silence. Theo’s eyes slid to his son. “Handled?” “Yes.” “How?” Matteo’s gaze didn’t shift still. “It’s done.” He stared at him for a long moment, and then smiled faintly. “Good.” I swallowed knowing that they knew. Of course they knew. Nothing in this family stayed private. Dinner was served in seconds. Plates placed carefully in front of us and the clink of silverware sounded too loud. Theo leaned back slightly staring at me. “Zara, tell me. Are you enjoying Italy?”

We took a last order to the people who were waiting for their plate and then we went to the table where Matt was waiting, he already had the menu card in his hands and made the order to one of our co-workers, Ale and I approached him and sat at the table, we greeted Matthew and after a while Maria arrived with the dishes that Matt had ordered before we arrived, we had lunch as usual, talking about different things and from time to time we laughed at some bad joke Matthew was telling us. "Hey Matt, when are you traveling?" I ask, remembering that I had a trip pending. "I still don't have a defined day, but I'm fixing everything to go." - And what is the reason for the trip? Asks Alejandra. —T

We finally arrive in front of Trattoria Andrea. I have become accustomed to having lunch there at least once a week. Dino, the owner, is a family friend and has always made us feel at home in his restaurant. Trattoria Andrea is a charming little Italian family restaurant. It's a red brick building with green and white blinds decorated with hanging flower pots and planters in the front. The interior is simple and charming. The furniture in the room is made of light wood, and the seats are dressed in red leather upholstery. The tables have a white tablecloth spread over them and a small bouquet placed in a glass yogurt pot.

His parents are here too, but Matteo's parents decided to go back to Italy for a while so it's not crowded. Enzo and Gio's papà, Stefano, is a piece of work. He's incredibly homophobic and keeps making snide comments about Damian in Italian that I've had to tell him off for. He doesn't respect me as his Cappo but I'm working on it. His wife, Martina, is lovely and tells Stefano to stop but he's a classic arrogant Italian man. Martina loves Damian and gets him to help her cook which only pisses off Stefano more.

When the words ‘not worth it’ hit me, a flood of memories came rushing back. For my father’s sixtieth birthday, Matteo had offered to host a celebration. In the end, he picked the cheapest restaurant down by the docks, choosing a set menu that cost fifty dollars per person. When I suggested switching to a nicer, more respectable place, he frowned and said, “Old people can’t eat that much anyway. It’s just a formality. Why waste the money?” Later, when he became a capo in the Moretti mafia family, I attended a ball with him. I had put on a full face of makeup that day, but he took one look at my evening gown and his face hardened.

"What? You can’t be serious." "You know how freaking expensive it is to book a table there and have been craving some minestrone. Your restaurant makes the best minestrone." " True." Bella answers, bobbing her head. "Okay, fine." " Yes...." I squealed excitedly. "Come on, let’s go." The earlier we get there, the earlier we get to leave." ♤♤♤♤ The party was in full swing, and just as I expected, most of the influential Italian family was in attendance. dressed in their very best attire, looking posh and elegant. Everyone was conversing and laughing amongst themselves, pretending they were excited to see each other.

"Well, I'll have to be more compelling than an Italian dessert. Challenge accepted." Our wine arrived, and we clinked glasses before turning our attention to the menus. The restaurant's soft lighting and intimate atmosphere made it feel more date-like than I'd intended, but Jackson's easy manner kept things comfortable. "What's good here?" he asked, scanning the menu. "Everything. The homemade pasta is incredible, especially the pappardelle with wild boar ragu." "Sold. I trust your judgment." When the waitress returned, we both ordered pasta dishes: the pappardelle for Jackson and mushroom ravioli for me.

He saw how much this meant to Rose and he didn't want to cause a drift between her and Sebestian. "Fine. But I still have my doubts." * * * * * Sebestian was in the kitchen plating the food he had bought on his way to town. As he saw the three of them, he smiled and presented his work. All the food looked great, and Monika recognized quite a few from the numerous food articles she had seen online. It all came from at new restaurant that was a little out of city. Some of the most popular dishes were the cheese soufflé, the prosciutto/brie/green apple panini on a Mediterranean black olive bread and the crêpes. All those dishes and more where now on the table, waiting to be eaten.