Page 40 of Finding Love in the Clouds

“The art of glassmaking was moved here from Venice proper in 1291, primarily to prevent the fires that often accompanied the glass furnaces from engulfing the wooden buildings of Venice. Today, Murano remains a vibrant center of glass artistry, with numerous workshops dotting the island. These range from small family-run studios to larger factories, each preserving unique techniques passed downthrough generations. It’s this rich tradition and the tight-knit community of artisans, many of whom commute from Venice and nearby islands, that maintain Murano’s reputation as a global beacon of glass craftsmanship,” she continued, gesturing towards the faint silhouettes of craftsmen visible through the factory windows, their forms bending and moving in the dance of creation.

“I didn’t realize that ‘Murano glass’ was a centralized location, not a specific singular enterprise. When we were at the Murano Glass Company today, I thought it wastheMurano Glass Company, not simplyoneof them. I would have rather taken a water taxi and explored this island than made my purchases at a large company,“ Fernando commented as they moved onto the next island.

“I love your heart, which always wants to help the underdog, but you don’t know that the business you supported today wasn’t family-owned. Imperio was a generational master craftsman who appreciated your support today. I saw you give him a tip for his assistance with your glassmaking experience. Let’s remember the day as a cherished experience and not with regrets. Especially since you don’t know they are warranted,” Sophie chided him gently, patting his thigh and resting her hand there as she returned her attention to the tour.

The boat gently skirted the edges of Burano, and the island presented a kaleidoscope of colors that immediately caught everyone’s attention. Alicia chuckled at their reactions to the vibrant homes lining the canals. “Ah, you must have noticed the rainbow of brightly painted townhomes,” she began, with a note of amusement and sarcasm in her voice. “There’s a charming story behind these vivid facades. Legend has it that after long hours at sea, the fishermen would return slightly tipsy, unable to distinguish their own homes in the dim light or thick sea fog that often rolls in. To help their husbands find their way, wives began painting their homes in bold, bright colors—ensuring that eventhe most inebriated sailor couldn’t mistake his own door. Whether it was a practical solution, a loving gesture to guide their husbands safely home, or just a good excuse to add a little color to their lives, the story adds to the unforgettable charm of Burano.”

As the group meandered down narrow streets, they were surrounded by multistory townhomes, each attached to its neighbor, creating a continuous wave of reds, blues, yellows, oranges, purples, greens, and even magenta pinks—each home brighter and bolder than the next, some adorned with overflowing flower boxes or small balcony gardens. “Burano consists of four small islands connected by bridges, much like Venice, though with a much smaller population of only around 3,000, creating a close-knit community atmosphere. In the 16th century, the island’s primary industry was taken over by women with their world-renowned lace-making. While most Burano lace today is machine-made, this craft continues to be a significant part of their cultural history. Today, tourism is the main industry, with the brightly colored homes serving as a unique attraction. Interestingly, homeowners here can’t just pick any paint color; they must petition the government if they want to repaint, and they’re then assigned acceptable colors for their specific row, ensuring the contrasting and eye-catching palette that we see today. This regulation has been in place since the monarchy of the Royal House of Savoy in the 1800s.”

After strolling along Burano’s interconnected pathways and crossing several narrow bridges, they approached a quaint villa tucked away from the main path. Unlike a typical restaurant, this place felt more like stepping into a warm and inviting private residence.

Alicia led them up to a private balcony that offered a breathtaking view of the lagoon, now shimmering under the moonlight. Candles hung from the overhang and were scattered across the long table, casting a soft golden glow that enhanced the intimate setting. Thetable was set in a manner that suggested both elegance and comfort, promising a meal to remember.

As they settled in their seats around the long table, a gentle sea breeze carrying the scent of the salty lagoon below enhanced the outdoor dining experience. A server soon approached, placing a basket of warm ‘pane di casa’ on the table alongside small glass cruets of olive oil and balsamic vinegar for dipping. Small ceramic dishes hand-painted in vibrant blues, yellows, reds, and greens were placed before each guest.

Sophie leaned into Fernando and whispered, “These remind me of the pottery we saw in Assisi. This matches the bud vase I bought and your pitcher.”

“Maybe we should order some of these for our home. After we marry, of course,” he replied with a wink, bringing a red flush to Sophie’s cheeks.

“Putting the cart before the horse, aren’t you? You haven’t even told your family the truth about my past. We are a long way from any wedding announcements,” she retorted, but her heart pinched at the thought.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Sophie took the cruet of oil passed to her and poured a small amount into their dipping dishes, followed by a few drips of balsamic vinegar.

“Our wedding isn’t as far away as you may think. If you haven’t started planning it, you might want to start. I was serious when I said short courtship and quick engagement,” Fernando replied seriously as he tore a small chunk of bread from the loaf in the basket Sophie handed to him.

“I don’t want to get my hopes up. When you talk to your brothers about the danger and get their approval, then I will start planning, but you better follow up with that proposal because I don’t want to experience another heartbreak like the last one,” Sophie said, stuffing a small piece of oil-saturated bread into her mouth; thankful for an excuse not to talk for a moment.

The sadness in her eyes turned Fernando’s stomach as he observed the pain she hid deep inside. He placed a hand on the arm she had resting on the table, holding her next bite of bread, and said, “Never. I’m not going anywhere. My brothers and I will figure out how tomitigate the danger, but one way or another, if this courtship goes the way we both think it will... we are getting married... soon. Nothing short of you finding out you are no longer attracted to me will derail this train.”

Shock registered on Sophie’s face. “What in the world makes you think I would suddenly find you unattractive? I’ve been mooning over you for the past four years, and everyone but you has seen it. I think it is statistically improbable that now that we are a real couple, I would decide you are too ugly to look at every day.”

“I didn’t mean that. I mean… we have been friends, from my perspective, best friends, for so long that when we finally kiss for the first time, it may not have the chemistry we think it will. If it’s like kissing your brother, then it won’t work. Right?” he asked meaningfully.

Giggles erupted from Sophie, drawing the attention of the other guests, temporarily halting their private conversations.

As the first dish arrived, Sophie gasped in surprise, “Is that… an octopus?”

Alicia leaned in with a smile. “This is the ‘antipasto’ or appetizer ‘polipo alla veneziana,’ a Venetian-style octopus,” she explained as plates of fresh greens topped with pale ivory baby octopus, tentacles delicately curling upwards like exotic flowers, glistened under golden drizzles of olive oil and sprinkles of vivid green parsley, were set before them. Fernando eyed the dish with curiosity, while Sophie’s expression was one of hesitation bordering on horror. She tentatively picked up her fork, poking at the small, tender creature. “Oh, I don’t know if I can do this,” she murmured, her voice tinged with both amusement and distress.

Fernando chuckled, “Come on, it’s just a little seafood. You eat shrimp and crab. Give it a try!” With a dare in his eyes, he sliced off the tiny round head and popped it into his mouth. The flesh was tender,offering a slight chewiness that melted away to reveal a burst of garlic and a subtle hint of the sea. The flavor was enhanced by a gentle acidity from the olive oil, which brought out the sweetness of the seafood.

“Yeah, well, I don’t know the age of the shrimp and crab that I eat. I can ignorantly assume they lived a nice long life before gracing my plate, and… they don’t have adorable little suction cups on their tiny little legs,” she said, looking at him with a mixture of emotions playing on her face as she watched him chew his bite then glanced at his plate. “The head! You started with the head? You’re a monster!”

That made him laugh out loud, “It’s food, Soph. This happens to be a Venetian tradition. If you don’t at least try it, you will offend the hosts, and I am pretty sure we are being served by Alicia’s personal friends tonight. What do you say to Javi when he is hesitant to try a new culinary experience, something like, ‘Try one bite, and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish’ or something like that, right? I’m pretty sure that is in every decent parent’s repertoire.”

“Oh, fine,” she mumbled under her breath, slicing off a tiny tentacle and placing it in her mouth. The texture was a delightful surprise—far more tender than she anticipated, with the fresh herbs providing a bright contrast to the briny depth of the octopus. Despite her reservations, the complex flavors danced on her palate, leaving a lingering hint of the ocean mixed with the fresh, earthy notes of parsley. If she had focused on just the flavors, she probably could have finished the dish, but the feeling of the tiny tentacle tickling the roof of her mouth and the bumpy suction cups scraping along the surface of her tongue was more than she could handle. She liked octopus, and even though she had eaten calamari in the past, it was different. Those were cut and breaded like onion rings. She could assume they were adults, and they didn’t have the same textures as this steamed little guy.

“Okay, that’s enough for me,” she laughed, pushing the plate towards Fernando. “You finish it!” She then quickly reached for a slice of pane di casa, dipping it into the oil and vinegar, enjoying the simple yet delicious flavors as a palate cleanser from her octopus adventure.

Fernando, amused by Sophie’s reaction, made quick work of her dish, having enjoyed it even though it was initially awkward to eat a baby of any creature.

They soon moved on to the ‘risotto al nero di seppia’. Alicia announced, “This is a classic risotto with cuttlefish ink. It’s rich and creamy, with a striking black color that brings variety to the dining experience. Cuttlefish ink has been traditionally used to flavor and color dishes like risotto, pasta, and sauces, reflecting the culinary heritage of the area. I hope you enjoy this wonderful Venetian tradition.” As the creamy, ebony risotto was served, Fernando leaned towards Sophie and whispered, “Great, someone must have told them I was an author. Should I inform them I prefer to write with my ink, not eat it? Watch out; the next plate might come with paper as the main dish.” They shared a laugh, enjoying the inside joke and the light, slightly salty taste of the sea that the risotto brought.

Alicia beamed as she introduced the main course. “Here we have ‘pesce in saor,’ a quintessential Venetian delicacy that beautifully blends sweet and sour elements.” She gestured towards the plates as they were set down, showcasing the fish that had been fried to a crisp and then smothered in a marinade. “This sauce is a vibrant mixture of caramelized onions, vinegar, raisins, and pine nuts, all combining to create a rich and complex flavor profile that’s truly unique to our region. Enjoy.”

As Fernando and Sophie took the first bite of the tender fish, the golden amber marinade shimmering under the candlelight, they were greeted with a harmonious blend of flavors. The fish itself was flakyand moist, with the marinade lending a perfect balance of sweetness from the raisins and a sharp tang from the vinegar, complemented by the subtle crunch of pine nuts. The onions, softened to perfection, added a mellow sweetness that rounded out the dish, making each bite a delightful exploration of taste and texture.

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