“Food is a performance here,” Giorgio said. “And, so, they call it "The Theatre." ”
The weather was still mild and Giorgio requested a table out on the terrace. He and Tamara sat down in a position to enjoy the grand fountain in the piazza across from the restaurant. There were tourists aplenty, and pigeons to outnumber them, but the elevated platform that the restaurant used for its outdoor tables kept their clients raised a few feet above the crowd. There was only the din of pedestrian traffic and the occasional car horn; but otherwise it seemed like a private balcony.
Menus were delivered and the waiter poured sparkling water into sturdy tumblers on the table. Giorgio wasted no time ordering two glasses of Prosecco.
“Yum,” Tamara chimed in.
Giorgio sat back in his chair and allowed
