The thin November fog blanketed the streets and the street lamps, one by one, illuminated the city centre. Imelde was on her way, holding a bottle of Balsamic Vinegar in her hands. Just a corner ahead, she saw the warm light of the café and walked in quickly. That place, with its scent of citrus fruits and old wood, was one of her favourites while away the autumn afternoons fading into evening, between chats.
Inside, her friend Miriam was already waiting for her, sipping a Negroni. Imelde relaxed in the nearby seat, greeting her with a smile. The barman soon prepared one for her as well. Meanwhile Miriam, curiously, had a look at the bottle of balsamic vinegar Imelde had placed on the table.
‘’And this? What are you planning?’ she asked, chuckling.
Imelde smiled, twisting the bottle in her hands. ‘Tomorrow I will make a dessert. Something special: Caramelised pears in Grand Marnier and Balsamic Vinegar of Modena, with whipped cream and roasted hazelnut crumbs. She took a pause, as if to savour the sound of these words. ‘I want to take it to Clara, a long-time customer. You know, she’s been a bit down in the dumps lately.’ Miriam widened her eyes. ‘That sounds lovely… and to be honest, I have always focused only on classic baked apples! Pears, though, have that more intense, kind of melancholic flavour… perfect for this season.’
‘Exactly,’ Imelde replied with enthusiasm. ‘Pears remind me of autumn, they are sweet and intense, like a winter evening. And with balsamic, well, they seem to become even yummier… they blend with that sour-sweet taste that carries with it the whole history of our land.’ Imelde smiled as she remembered her childhood, when her mother used balsamic vinegar with the same care as family treasures.
Miriam sipped her drink with an amused smile. ‘’What about Clara? Why this dessert?’
Imelde paused for a second, staring at her cocktail sliding in her glass, almost as if to find the words. ‘Clara is one of those people who always has a kind word for everyone. Lately it seems like the world has been a bit against her. So I was thinking that some special dessert, simple but made with love, would bring a smile to her face.’
Imelde described how she would choose the firmest pears at the market the following morning and let them caramelise slowly, adding Grand Marnier only at the end, to release the alcoholic, heady aroma. ‘And then, the whipped cream, just slightly sweetened, balancing the balsamic… Finally, the roasted hazelnuts, a crunchy touch, like a cuddle.’ Miriam stared at her with a mix of both admiration and affection. ‘I can imagine Clara in front of that cake, with a smile that is finally light,’ she said. ‘And I can imagine you watching it all happen with that pleased smile of yours.’
The two laughed, raising their glasses in a cheerful toast. ‘To us,’ said Miriam, ‘and to all the sweets that warm even the coldest evenings.’
