There is a low wall behind the bar that plays loud music at Piramide Metro station. It is a shady wall, too, and removed from the traffic, so, if you like Cher remixes, it’s a good place to rest or to eat a sandwich.
The other day, I passed by and an old man had spread waxed paper on top of the wall and, working with a miniature pen knife, was slicing from a whole melon, discarding the skin and seeds as he went into a bowl near his trolley, and then draping each orange moon with a slice of prosciutto. It crossed my mind to stop and say something before catching my train, about his skill and how good it looked, spread out there like a picture. Someone else, a young man, actually did say something: ‘e un buon matrimono’ – it’s a good marriage (the melon and the prosciutto) – and the melon-cutter agreed.
The idea of happy marriages in food stuck in my head, which is far from an original idea, but a good and helpful one for passing time on a train. What is it about the marriage of melon and prosciutto? Contrast, baby! The cool, sweet smoothness of the melon, the dry, salty tear of the pork. And they are a couple who fit anywhere, be that a fancy table or a low wall. One marriage leads to another: melon and prosciutto, prosciutto and figs, figs and white pizza , white pizza and sausages, sausages and lentils, lentils and tomato … a lentil-and-tomato soup, with cheese croutons.
