The Secret Recipe

Vincent and his fiancé, Meg, stood together. They scanned the wedding plans covering their dining table. He kept shaking his head.

She nudged him and said, “Vince, your uncle has it. Call him.”

“Meg, I’ve called everyone.”

“But him.”

“Cousin Antonio, Little Tony, Anthony, Aunt Antonia… anyone still alive. I called them all.”

“What about Nonny?”

“Well, duh…”

“But not your Uncle Anton?”

“He’s a thug. Not a cook …”

“But he is. Growing up, that’s all I heard about him. He’s proud of his spaghetti. Any time there was a party...”

“I know. Everyone put their guns down and filled up on pasta. ‘The Pasta Peace…’”

“Call him. He’s our last chance. Don’t want to lose that recipe. Posterity, you know… and the reception…”  

“I have it all... Except for one or two little items…”

“…That make the difference between our sauce and Chef Boy-howdy…”

“Exactly…”

“Call him while we still can. We’re running out of time.”

Vincent stepped back and stretched. “How many people do you think he’s killed?”

“Anton? Did he kill any? Doesn’t that get delegated…?”

“Yeah, but calling him won’t do. I need to show up. In person. And I don’t want to face him.”

“He’s your uncle. Bad form, killing relatives.”

“Like that ever stopped anyone. Meg, history’s filled… never mind. And I’m from the no status branch of the family.”

“Aren’t you being a little paranoid? You’re not a threat, Vince. He’d never kill you. He’ll be honored.”

“But his guard might. Watch. Anton’ll give me the recipe and then I don’t make it out the door. They’ll say I stole it.”

“Over the recipe?”

“Who cares what the reason is? Dead is dead. It’s so easy? Why don’t you go?”

She froze. “Oh! We could go together.”

What am I doing?

“No. I’ll go. It’s my deal. I’ll never forgive myself if we both get killed.”

Relieved, Meg gave Vincent a big hug. She whispered, “What if you sweeten the deal and invite him?”

Vincent laughed. “And add a table for his body guards and half-a-dozen henchmen? Let’s not.”

“But more gifts!” They laughed. “No, really… You’re so smart. I never would have thought of that.”

He kissed her. “I’d better go.”

“Not going to tell him you’re coming?”

“Element of surprise…”

Hoping to avoid a trip to his Uncle Anton’s, Vincent stopped at Guido’s Pizza in Little Italy.  Legend said, Guido was a former associate of Anton’s. Tall, bordering on gaunt, he spotted Guido when he came out of his office.

Looks like he never eats his own pizzas.

Vincent waved shyly. Guido approached him.

“Hi, Guido? I’m Anton’s nephew… Uhm, Vincent.”

They shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“I’m putting on a celebration… a wedding reception… Want to order some pizzas.”

“Nice. How many can I put you down for?” Guido grabbed an order pad and pen.

“I’m thinking a variety… six?”

“Large?”

“Of course.”

Guido wrote. “When do you want to pick them up? Delivered?”

“In a week. Next Saturday.”

“Oh…” He made a note.

“I’ll pay for them now.”

Guido nodded. Vincent gave him the information he needed.

Guido smiled. “Okay…” He rang up the order.

Vincent reached for his wallet and paused. “By the way, my uncle… Anton, used to make this amazing spaghetti sauce. Great stuff.”

“True…”

Vincent saw the walls going up.

“You wouldn’t have the recipe for that, would you?”

Guido chuckled. “Anton’s recipe? You want Anton’s recipe? From me? Need to ask him. Anton has it.”

“I guess so… Or so I heard…”

“But hey… if you do talk with him, do me, and yourself a favor…”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mention me. And don’t say you talked to me.”

“Oh… Why?”

“I’ll only say we’re not as close as once upon a time. My name won’t open any doors for you. You follow…?”

Vincent nodded. They understood each other. He paid for the pizzas and left.

Uncle Anton’s opulent neighborhood was like no other Vincent had seen. Each property had higher fences, bigger walls, and longer driveways. When he could see buildings, their size begged the imagination.

He got to the gate leading to his uncle’s property and pressed the intercom button.

A voice asked, “Who’s calling?”

“I’m here to see my Uncle Anton. I’m his nephew, Vincent.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No. It’s a friendly visit.”

“Is he expecting you?”

“I wanted to surprise him. I haven’t seen him for a while.”

“What is this visit about?”

“I’m his relative. I miss him.”

After a pause, the gate swung open and Vincent drove up to the house. Standing before the house, it looked even more massive than he remembered.

Vincent wondered, does Anton play the violin? He always had a violin case laying around. But I never heard him play. Is that where he keeps his machine gun?

He walked toward the main door. A man wearing a suit stepped out before he got to the top step. He said, “You need to surrender any weapons before entering.”

“I’m unarmed. I’m…”

“Turn around.”

Vincent did so. The guard gave him a quick frisk. He found nothing.

He said, “Sorry. Orders…”

Vincent had to make light of the absurd security precautions. “You keeping him in? Or the others out?”

The guard met his gaze. “Others. He did my father a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

“I’ve known him all my life. But it’s been a while. How is he?”

“He’s a good guy… We play cribbage on my break. There are people who’d want to hurt him. I’m his insurance…”

“I get it.”

“You can go in. Your uncle’s suite is at the top of the right staircase.”

“Thanks.”

Vincent strode up the steps. He’d seen photographs of palaces that were humbler. Large ancestral portraits covered the walls. After Michelangelo’s style, the high ceiling featured cherubs flying around the chandelier. The trim appeared to be gold leaf.

Vincent reached the top and stood before the massive double doors. He knocked.

A voice beckoned him.

He opened the door into a spacious, bright room. The windows looked out over the city.

Uncle Anton stood by his antique desk. It looked about the size of a queen-sized bed.

He waved Vincent closer.

Before living high for the last fifty years, Anton had looked like a young Sly Stallone. Now, he looked healthy, but ancient.

Anton pointed to a chair and said, “Come in. Sit. Vincent, right? How long has it been?”

“About twenty years…” Vincent sat. Anton sat at the desk.

“And suddenly you miss your dear Uncle Anton.”

“I’ve been busy. You know, planning our wedding…”

“Yeah, I heard. I must have misplaced the wedding invite.”

“An oversight… Sorry.”

“I’ve been expecting you. Your name keeps coming up. You meet with everyone but me.”

“I’m here now.”

“So, this is a social visit? Tell me, no bull, what brings you here?”

“Uncle…”

“I know what you want.”

“…We’re putting on a party. You can come if you want.”

“A tip? Don’t waste your money on that Guido’s pizzas. Taste like newspaper…”

“Oh… thanks. Don’t want that.”

“So, you came to invite me? In person, no less…”

“I want to make that great spaghetti sauce Nana used to give us…”

Anton sat back and nodded.

“You want the recipe.”

“I have everything but for a couple…”

“So, you ask everyone. No one has it. Only me.”

“That’s why I…”

 “…You called everyone in the world before crawling to me…?”

“Everyone knows how busy you are…”

He scoffed. “Not so busy these last years… I make a few calls. Don’t get out much.”

“Uncle…”

Anton leaned in. “You kids don’t understand. You do us no favors… leaving us old ones alone…  And trying to cover your selfishness because you ‘don’t want to bother us’? We have all the time in the world. Until we don’t. What do you think you’re interrupting?”

Vincent squirmed. “You wouldn’t enjoy hanging out with a bunch of…”

“That pretense is a lie. You don’t want me there. Letting us sit alone in our homes is a curse. Watching life go on does us good. I love seeing the future unfold in our children. That blessing tells me it’s not fini. The end.” He looked up.

“I thought…”

“If you actually thought, you thought wrong. Based on what? Did you ask someone who knows?”

“My friends. The music… It would bore you…”

“That’s my problem. Not yours, nephew… I get it. No one likes ‘the lecture.’ And I’m letting you have it. It’s tedious and embarrassing. I never do it in public. But you know I’m right.”

“You have a point…”

“You need to understand, I’m doing you a favor, not making you wait ‘til you’re my age to see what it’s like. When it’s too late to change.”

“I didn’t think.”

“Guess not. So, what do you need from me? That’s it? The recipe?”

“If you don’t want to give it to me… I’ll make due…”

“It’s yours.”

“It is?”

“For a price. Nothing is free, nephew…”

Oh, here it comes. He wants my first born…

“My first born?”

Did I say that out loud?

“No.”

“What? You don’t think my baby is good enough? What could you ask for worth more than that?”

Anton held his gaze for what felt an eternity. “Your time.”

“My what?”

“Make time for me. Have me to dinner. Let me into your life. Include me. Visit me.”

“Oh… Well, the wedding is…”

“You’re not listening. You don’t want me there. I’d be a distraction. That’s yours and your bride’s show.”

“But…”

“I want to spend time with you. Like we’re doing here. Now… Talking over dinner. Sharing memories. A bottle of chianti. Personal time.”

His uncle’s request washed over Vincent.

He actually wants to know me… Us… Once said, it seems so obvious.

“Oh… I can do that…”

A glimmer of a smile came into Anton’s face.

Vincent cleared his throat. “Uhm… how about tomorrow? At our house?”

Anton grinned. “I’d love it. What time?”

“Is six good?”

“Perfect. I’ll have the recipe typed up for you. You’ll have it tomorrow.”

“Great!” Vincent stood and grabbed his uncle’s hand in both of his. “That wasn’t so hard…”

They laughed.

“Thanks, Uncle. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it. Should I bring anything else?”

“Just that smile. I remember from when I was a kid.”

They laughed.

“See you then. I’ll let myself out.”

Vincent walked out of the room and left his uncle feeling happy.

Their dinner was a success. They laughed into the night.

Uncle Anton came to the wedding. Sitting in the back, he didn’t distract from the festivities.

After that, he saw Vincent and Meg often. After all, they were family.