Vin narrows his eyes at me. “Is your gnocchi thuddy or pillowy?”
Matti mutters, “Here we go.”
I frown. “Gnocchi should never be thuddy.”
“Baked or boiled?”
“Always baked.”
“Do you add ricotta to the dough or serve it on the side?”
“It’s in the dough.”
“And the spinach, on the side or in the dough?”
“I use an organic baby spinach and puree it before adding to the dough last minute. Then I shape each one by hand and bake them, which is why it takes more time.”
Vin nods, handing me the menu. “That’s what I’ll have. I’ll also have a tasting plate for everything else on the menu.”
Siena groans. “You’re insufferable.”
“Just because your boyfriend eats breakfast for every meal doesn’t mean I can’t have an elevated palette.”
Giovanna snorts. “Yes, ‘elevated’ is the word everyone uses to describe Vincenzo Demonio.”
Vin gives her a dirty look. “For your information, princess—”
“I’ll go get started,” I say, smiling as I return to the kitchen.
Rocco slides the lasagna in the oven and starts the arancini as I wash my hands then create a tasting plate for Vin. Rocco peers over my shoulder, frowning.
“What is that?”
“Special request,” I say.
“I hope you’re charging extra,” Rocco grumbles.
I don’t tell him I’m not charging them at all. He wouldn’t like that. He’s very protective of the restaurant—specifically, his job—but they’re family, and it’s my business. Rocco’s a dick, buthe’s slightly better in the kitchen than he is in bed, so I keep him around.
Letting the bowl of gnocchi dough rest, I wash and puree the spinach. Just as I’m about to combine the two, Vin appears in the pickup window.
I smile. “If you’re looking for Lisa, she’s in back. You’re welcome to go find her.”
“Nah, I can get pussy anytime. Right now, I need to eat.”
I smirk. I’d love to solve both of those problems for him simultaneously.
“How’s that gnocchi coming?” he asks, staring intently at the dough.
“Patience, Vincenzo.”
He jerks his gaze up to meet mine. “Vincenzo, huh?”
As I smile and pour the spinach puree into the gnocchi dough, Rocco steps up behind me, staring Vin down.
Vin lifts his chin. “You got a problem?”
Rocco growls, “No diners in the kitchen.”
