Tomatoes, yes Tomatoes

Another story from my summer travels -not in a chronological recount of ‘my summer vacation’, but hopefully something that you can enjoy reading on yours.

Tomatoes, yes tomatoes.

They are local from Italy, if you are near Italy. As we happened to be, on that July day in the south of France.

Like most gifts from the earth- they are delicious when eaten as close to the place they are grown. Even better when eaten without getting in their way…if you know what I mean. Not trying to make them something different than they are. There might be marks on their skin or not, but they are deliciously ripe having spent the perfect amount of time under the hot sun.

Like so many things in art and creativity it takes confidence to let something stand on its own. To present what there is and look, I mean really notice what is actually in front of you— and listen while it speaks to you….whatever that is…marks on the canvas, the paper, the sound from the instrument you are using including, perhaps, your voice. Let it stand in the way it has arrived. Let it speak and listen deeply to what it has to say. Take it in as the gift that it is, and accept it without judgement- it’s honesty. See it through the lens of gratitude.

We arrived in Antibes. Found a parking spot in a large clean parkade near the old town. As we walked out into the hot sun, we could see that the market stalls were just starting to be taken down in the square under the plane trees. That’s OK we thought, we had had such good luck at other markets, and so little space in our bags.

We used our phones to lead us in the direction of old town. It is always somewhat disorienting when you come out of the relative darkness of the parkade and wonder which direction you are facing.

It was after lunchtime, about one or maybe later, and we saw the crowds in the walking street so we knew we were going in the right direction.  Before we cross the street there was a small restaurant window. Well to call it a restaurant might be overstating it, but a window, the size of a food truck in a building facing about five very small tables with two chairs each along the sidewalk next to the busy road. They were offering crêpes. We love crêpes! Crêpes it is- for lunch.

In the centre of the group of tables was an empty one, so I walked towards it and as I did, a woman who was ordering at the window, three meters away, barked at me in an angry, aggressive voice saying “Hey that’s my table!” I was caught off guard and said “How was I to know?!” There was no indication of a newspaper or a sweater left on a chair. The jarring energy she created around her was so hostile, we kept walking. We crossed the street and joined the crowds.

Now the walking felt like wandering, my favourite kind of travel. The kind where you don’t know where you’re going to end up. But you’ve put yourself in this place. And you might find something.

It was so hot. So we turned down a quieter walking street because there was some shade. We passed a few restaurants that looked kind of, well, mainstream if you know what I mean.  And we weren’t THAT hungry, so we decided we would keep walking.

And then we saw it on the corner. There was something about it. So we turned the corner to the right and we looked inside the open windows. There was an inside part and also an outside part of this simple elegant, beautiful restaurant. We looked at the menu posted outside and we said let’s try this.

There were a few gentlemen around one table inside and we asked if we could sit outside but under the umbrella to be a little bit cooler. This gave us the view down a different walking street of some other patio restaurants. On each of the tables all set for guests were beautiful plates with the writing in one of four colours: raspberry, yellow, blue or green; a beautiful handmade olive oil container in the same style, a fresh lemon, salt, a pepper grinder, along with a sparkling wine glass, water glass, and cutlery resting on a white linen napkin.

We had arrived at a Sicilian restaurant run by a young entrepreneur, Angelo Salvuccio who had worked in Switzerland and in a fancy hotel in Antibes after moving from his family home in Sicily. This elegant restaurant where his passion led him on his entrepreneurial journey landed him here only three months before.

Because we were the only ones in the restaurant, besides the gentlemen, he spent a lot of time with us and generously shared the context of what we were experiencing.

The plates? They had been made with soil that was made into clay, that was made into these plates, that was hand painted with the name of the restaurant, including his name.  Like me he had a name that most people don’t get on the first try.  When I named my company Lise-Lotte Design and my website Lise-Lotte.ca I thought should I really have shortened the name so that it would be easier for people?

Well, he had the same conundrum. Except he decided to shorten it to Salvo. 

Listening to this entrepreneur speak was so validating and inspiring. He was the epitome of what I am learning in all of the marketing and business classes that I am taking.

He knew his why.

It was so clear.

And it was this: to provide a wonderful, elevated dining experience, so that his guests can to be in the present moment enjoying local, fresh seasonal food featuring ingredients from his family’s farm on Sicily.

His vision also included something that is very close to my heart, something that I talk about all the time, and it is this – the name of his restaurant: Momento.

The meaning behind it is that life is a series of moments.

All of me agrees with that , all of me has lived that understanding that life is a series of moments.

And in this moment in Antibes, France with the one who made me a mama, in the warmth of a July afternoon, we enjoyed conversation, laughter, peace, the tastes of good food. And in being present for this experience, we made in that moment a memory that will last us, our lifetime.

It is the essence of this one person who has created this place, who understands what it means to honour food and the experience around it. He wanted to use all Sicilian products that were fresh and of the season.  From the wheat that his dad grew and that the chef made into the bread we ate ( which of course was so delicious), the olive oil which came from his family’s olives, the homemade pasta which the chef had made with wheat also from his family’s farm and the whole olives also from the family farm in Sicily.  He wanted to have us enjoy this food in a beautiful space that felt well, it was very hygge actually. It was intentional, comfortable and simply elegant.

After working in very fancy places, he understood the rhythm of what all of the little details meant when serving someone a beautiful meal over a relaxed timeframe.  It wasn’t just that the food was exquisite and presented with such care, and the respect that it deserves knowing how it is local and very close to how it has been grown. There was no getting in the way of it. The tomatoes spoke for themselves.

The next time you go to Antibes, I would love for you to experience that too.

PS I bought a plate to take home, you can buy his olive oil, plates, and olive jars and he will send them to you wherever you are in the world. Even as far away as Texas as he had just done the day before. I thought, wait, I think I live even farther than Texas. I don’t know about Texas, because I haven’t been there, but I know about my part of Canada. I could share with him that while he may think that this is unique (in a lonely one-of-a-kind way)- I assured him that it might be unique in the city he is in…but that it is a value that food can be about local, fresh, nutrient-dense and seasonal in the part of the world where I live.

I think I need to go and get some local tomatoes for our evening meal today. They will be wonderful with some Italian olive oil from a world away….

I wish you peace on your path.

Lise-Lotte