PEPPY PRIEST PEDDLES PLATEFULS OF PASTA
BRUNO BRINGS SPECIAL SAUCE TO STUDENTS' STREET
2" TALL ICE CREAM CONES FOR DESSERT
2" TALL ICE CREAM CONES FOR DESSERT
JESUIT PRIEST AND ITALIAN NATIVE Fr. Bruno Segatta brought his famous tomato sauce to the streets of Cagli on Thursday in an unprecented roadside pasta party.
Bruno invited students to cook up bowls full of noodles at their individual residences, and rendez-vous at a plastic table on quaint, cobblestoned via Lapis for a dollop of his famed sauce. Bruno stood watch behind the multitude of pots, pans, and collanders, ladling out and stirring his giant tub of sauce. "Come eat," he shouted. "Have some more!"
The gourmet chef, clad in shorts and a t-shirt, with a pair of sunglasses dangling round his neck, spent the better part of the afternoon slaving over a hot stovetop, chopping garlic and dicing various vegetables. Graduate assistant Darcy Caputo added to the bohemian atmosphere by reclining on a couch near Bruno, strumming a cheap acoustic guitar and weaving delicate melodies of love and loss while Bruno sliced and diced.
Students were enthusiastic about Bruno's sauce as they muched happily in the street off plastic plates.
"It's great!" exclaimed Mary Schell. "He's mixed everyone's different noodles together. And this sauce is great!"
Katie Koepfinger agreed. "We should definitely make this at home," she said. "I mean, I'm not an expert chef, but I'll try!"
The sauce, which featured tomatoes, basil, zucchini, and eggplant, was not originally set to be a hit for student Sarah Sullivan of St Louis, Missouri. She had stated earlier that eggplant was not to her liking.
"But it's good!" she cried. "Really good! I can't even find the eggplant."
The pasta polished off, neighborly landlord Mario Carnale emerged from a darkened doorway holding boxes of miniature ice cream cones. Students ate with gusto, downing two or three at once, before Mario re-emerged with a bottle of champagne.
Students, faculty, and landlord alike ended the noodly soiree by toasting one another, giving thanks for pasta, street parties, and food-fueled fellowship.
Bruno invited students to cook up bowls full of noodles at their individual residences, and rendez-vous at a plastic table on quaint, cobblestoned via Lapis for a dollop of his famed sauce. Bruno stood watch behind the multitude of pots, pans, and collanders, ladling out and stirring his giant tub of sauce. "Come eat," he shouted. "Have some more!"
The gourmet chef, clad in shorts and a t-shirt, with a pair of sunglasses dangling round his neck, spent the better part of the afternoon slaving over a hot stovetop, chopping garlic and dicing various vegetables. Graduate assistant Darcy Caputo added to the bohemian atmosphere by reclining on a couch near Bruno, strumming a cheap acoustic guitar and weaving delicate melodies of love and loss while Bruno sliced and diced.
Students were enthusiastic about Bruno's sauce as they muched happily in the street off plastic plates.
"It's great!" exclaimed Mary Schell. "He's mixed everyone's different noodles together. And this sauce is great!"
Katie Koepfinger agreed. "We should definitely make this at home," she said. "I mean, I'm not an expert chef, but I'll try!"
The sauce, which featured tomatoes, basil, zucchini, and eggplant, was not originally set to be a hit for student Sarah Sullivan of St Louis, Missouri. She had stated earlier that eggplant was not to her liking.
"But it's good!" she cried. "Really good! I can't even find the eggplant."
The pasta polished off, neighborly landlord Mario Carnale emerged from a darkened doorway holding boxes of miniature ice cream cones. Students ate with gusto, downing two or three at once, before Mario re-emerged with a bottle of champagne.
Students, faculty, and landlord alike ended the noodly soiree by toasting one another, giving thanks for pasta, street parties, and food-fueled fellowship.