A long, noisy table
— on an Italian hilltop with a Fellini casting-call of boisterous characters, salumi from the farm down the way and wines from Uncle Pazzo;
— in the 11th-century château, piled high with ridiculous local cheeses and grand crus (or unlabeled bottles that ought to be);
— on the tiny Finnish island where the summer sun never sets, with lingonberries, pickled fishes, and strange rye puddings.
We pine for the Old Country, so we're building our own right here in Portland.
It's about the food, of course, but really it's about time and connection. It's about spending half the day at table, talking, arguing, singing, whatever. Remembering we're alive, and that it's a collaborative project.
That pretty much sums up our definition of the good life.
Over the years we've learned a lot about transplanting the experience to American soils. The Cordial puts a name to our hosting habit, and takes it to a new level.
Cin-cin!