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. And they are a couple who fit anywhere, be that a fancy table or a low wall. 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. 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. 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. 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. 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.
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