It's fun to be in Italy at Easter, especially when you're in a village.

After a walk that took us to the next town over, we returned to find one of our neighbors puttering around in his cantina. I said "ciao" to him and by the time Martha came around the corner he had a bottle ready to hand her.

Then, around noon, Martha puttered around just long enough so that Francesca came out and asked her if we were alone this Easter. We were indeed.

"Well," said Francesca, "we have lots of ravioli--why don't you come around one?"

At one we sat down to some bruschetta and some of Armando's prize winning salami along with countless slices of culatello. If you don't know what culatello is, you haven't lived--that's all I can say. It's the tenderloin of prosciutto, the single, central muscle of the leg of the pig, cured in the same way as ordinary prosciutto. Mmmm.

Then there was the ravioli in a veal sauce.

Of course, that wasn't all. Not by a long shot.

There was the meat course. Lamb cooked with olives. PLUS roast capon. Peppers stuffed with anchovies and capers and preserved in olive oil. Then fragole, strawberries. Then two large chocolate eggs were slashed open with a sharp knife, as was a finger. Ooops.

Then coffee. Then grappa.

Then I went home and took a nap.

Easter is like that in Italy.