For Francesco Sedita, my editor and friend, who inspires me to explore outside my comfort zone, to never stop traveling, and to keep learning about new places and things I have never seen!
Para Francesco Sedita, editor e amigo que me inspira a explorar o mundo fora da minha zona de conforto, a nunca parar de viajar e a continuar descobrindo novos lugares.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Text copyright © 2015 by GDL Foods, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Francesca Gambatesa. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, a division of Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.
ISBN 978-0-698-19886-9
Version_1
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
A Note from Giada
Excerpt from Recipe for Adventure: Hawaii!
Recipes
Zia’s Brigadeiros
Zia’s Pão De Queijo
An alien ship whizzed past Alfie’s head. He ducked just in time and turned around to shoot glowing globs of slime at it. “Yes!” he cheered as the aliens sunk under the weight of the slime and sailed toward Planet Zob far below. Now Alfie could focus on his mission to save the stranded battleship Kotar—just as long as no other aliens came along. Surely, he’d make it to the next level of Alien Slime Universe before dinnertime.
“Alfredo Bertolizzi!” Alfie’s mom said. Uh-oh, Alfie thought. When his mom used his full name, he knew he was in trouble. “Cosa stai facendo?” she said in Italian. “What are you doing?”
“Playing Alien Slime Universe,” Alfie said.
Mom set down the basket of laundry she was holding. “Why aren’t you practicing your drums?” she asked.
“I will,” Alfie said, his eyes still glued to the TV screen. According to his friend Jackson, when you beat this level, the aliens floated out of their ships and did a hilarious song and dance. He just had to see that!
“What about your drum solo in the spring concert?” Mom asked as she folded a T-shirt. “You need to practice!”
Alfie glanced out the window at the flakes of snow falling lazily onto the white-dusted lawn. “It’s only February. I have plenty of time.”
Alfie had recently learned to play the drums and had been chosen to do a solo performance at the spring band concert next month. It was just that practicing could be so . . . boring sometimes—especially compared to Level 5 of Alien Slime Universe!
“Well, having a solo in the concert is a very big deal and should not be taken lightly. Not to mention, you probably also have homework to do,” Mom continued. “So I think it’s about time to turn off the video game.”
“Aw, Mom,” Alfie said. “Just ten more minutes, okay?”
Alfie’s big sister, Emilia, and their great-aunt Donatella appeared in the doorway of the family room. “Ten more minutes of what?” Emilia asked.
“Blasting aliens,” Alfie said.
“Aren’t you supposed to be practicing for your drum solo?” Emilia asked.
Alfie frowned. Emilia was only one year older than he was, but sometimes she acted like she was his mother.
“I don’t feel like practicing,” Alfie said. But he turned off his video game anyway. There was no way he was going to get any more game time in now.
“Everything takes practice, mio amore,” Zia Donatella said, adjusting the brightly colored stone necklace she always wore. “Even cooking!”
Alfie nodded. Zia was an amazing cook. Ever since she’d come to stay with Alfie and his family, she had made some pretty awesome food for them—and everything was always prepared from scratch. But having a fantastic cook in the house wasn’t the only perk. Sometimes Zia’s food was magic! Alfie and Emilia had been magically transported to Naples, Paris, Hong Kong, and New Orleans—all thanks to her special recipes. They were always ready for the next surprising adventure.
“Well, you should at least start practicing singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me!” Emilia said with a big smile. “Don’t forget, my party is this weekend.” Emilia was turning thirteen, and Alfie knew she could hardly wait—especially because it would mean she could say she was two years older than Alfie instead of one, even if it was only for a few months.
“How could I forget?” Alfie asked. “It’s all you’ve talked about since Christmas!”
“I can’t believe my bambina, my baby girl, is going to be a teenager!” Mom said, shaking her head.
Alfie rolled his eyes.
“How are the party plans coming, you two?” Mom asked Emilia and Zia.
“Great!” Emilia said. “It’s going to be perfect. All my friends are coming, and Zia’s helping me plan the food. We’re making homemade Napoli-style pizzas, baked pita chips and red-pepper dip, and spicy popcorn!”
“That sounds wonderful!” Mom said. Alfie had to agree.
“Oh, and we’re making Doberge cake for dessert!” Emilia added.
“Doberge cake?” Alfie asked. “Isn’t that what we had in New—” Alfie stopped himself midsentence when he saw the looks on Emilia’s and Zia’s faces. He was about to say “New Orleans,” but Mom and Dad didn’t know about any of their adventures. It was Zia, Emilia, and Alfie’s secret. Doberge cake was a special chocolate layer cake that the amazing cook Delphine had made for them on their last night in New Orleans.
“Where did you have Doberge cake?” Mom asked. “That’s so unusual.”
“It was . . . uh . . . at Becky’s birthday party,” Emilia jumped in. “Her mom is from the South.”
“I thought Becky’s mom was from Maine,” Mom said, looking confused. “We talked about going up to their cabin for a family trip some summer.”
“Oh, um, I guess it was her aunt then.” Emilia shrugged.
“Okay . . . ,” replied Mom. “Well, your party menu sounds delizioso! Just give me your grocery list and I’ll pick up everything.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Emilia said.
“Of course. After all, it’s not every day we have a teenager in the house!”
“Oh, brother,” Alfie said.
Zia laughed and r
uffled Alfie’s hair. “Come on. If you’re not going to practice your drums right now, you can help me start dinner. I’m making chicken Milanese.”
Alfie hopped up from his beanbag chair and turned off the TV. “Chicken Milanese? Does that mean it’s from Milan?” he asked, exchanging a glance with Emilia. He was eager to know if tonight’s dish might take them somewhere.
“It’s from the market. Now andiamo! Let’s go!” Zia said, trying to be serious, but Alfie could detect a smile at the corner of her mouth.
“Okay, fine,” Alfie sighed. It looked like tonight would just be dinner at home as usual. And that meant he’d have to practice his drums when he was done.
“People, people!” Mr. Erikson stood in front of the band room and tapped his baton against the podium. “Drummers, your timing in the intro is throwing everyone off. You’re coming in one beat late. You have to get that opening sequence just right. Let’s start again from the top.”
Alfie slumped in his chair. How was it not the end of the period yet?
“That means you, too, Mr. Bertolizzi,” Mr. Erikson said, giving Alfie a look.
Alfie straightened his music stand and positioned his drumsticks over his snare drum. He waited for Mr. Erikson to count out the beat, and then they started the song over again for the fourth time.
Finally, after two more tries, the band made it through to the end of the song. Then they repeated it again before the bell rang. Alfie thought his solo went pretty well that last time.
“Okay, everybody. Good work today!” Mr. Erikson called over all the chatter and commotion as students packed up their instruments. “Don’t forget to practice, practice, practice. The spring concert will be here before we know it!”
Alfie slid his drumsticks into his backpack as his sheet music fluttered off the music stand and onto the floor. He knelt down to collect the loose pages into his band folder. Mr. Erikson walked over and handed Alfie one of the sheets that had sailed the farthest.
“You know, Alfie,” Mr. Erikson started, “I think your solo could use some more work. I’m happy to help you with it if you want to practice a little extra after school.”
Alfie crammed his music folder into his backpack and zipped it up. “Thanks, Mr. Erikson, but I can’t really stay after. I . . . I have to get home to help my great-aunt Donatella.” Alfie swallowed hard. He knew his family would happily let him stay after school to practice with Mr. Erikson. He just didn’t want Mr. Erikson to know that.
“Well, I can always find someone else to do the solo, Alfie, if you’re not up for it,” Mr. Erikson said. “I know it’s a lot of pressure, so that’s fine if you don’t want to do it.”
“No, I want to do the solo. And I’ll work on it more at home. I promise,” Alfie said, turning toward the door.
“All righty then.” Alfie’s teacher smiled. “See you Friday.”
“Bye, Mr. Erikson!” Alfie called back. He bounded up the steps and through the band-room door. Charlie was waiting for him just outside, in the hall.
“Yo, Alfie!” he said.
“Hey, Charlie,” Alfie replied halfheartedly. Charlie was kind of Alfie’s friend, but he could also be kind of loud and annoying.
“So you’re having trouble with the solo, huh?” Charlie asked, nudging Alfie’s arm.
“No!” Alfie said, walking quickly down the hall. He knew his voice sounded defensive.
Charlie hurried to catch up. “Oh, well, I just asked because I’ve been practicing it, too.” Charlie waved his drumsticks in front of Alfie’s face.
“You have?” Alfie’s eyes were wide. Why was Charlie practicing his solo?
“Yeah, you know, just in case you don’t feel like doing it, or can’t do it, or whatever,” Charlie said.
“I can do it,” Alfie said. “I’m going to do it.”
Charlie put his drumsticks in his back pocket and held up his hand. “Okay, cool. It just sounded like maybe Mr. Erikson was going to look for a replacement, that’s all.”
Alfie could feel his ears getting hot. Why was everybody bugging him so much about this drum solo? When he and Emilia were in New Orleans, he played with a real, live jazz band in a real jazz club on a real stage! And he was good at it! All the La Salle kids in the band had told him so. This was just some silly little school concert. It was nothing compared to that!
Alfie stood in front of the door to his math class and faced Charlie. “Mr. Erikson is not replacing me,” he said. “I’m doing the solo and that’s that.” He turned into the classroom without waiting for Charlie’s reply.
After school, Alfie sat in front of his drum set in the garage. He stared at the sheet music and sighed. He just couldn’t bring himself to play that song again. Before long, he heard pots clanging in the kitchen and Zia and Emilia talking. His stomach growled. He decided to take a break and see what they were making for dinner. Besides, it was getting cold, and the little space heater he set up next to his drums wasn’t helping much. Alfie turned off the heater and went inside.
Emilia was at the sink washing vegetables. Zia wove her salt-and-pepper hair into a loose braid and looked at Alfie. “I didn’t even know you were out there. I didn’t hear you playing.”
Alfie plopped down at the kitchen island and rested his chin in his hand. “I know,” he mumbled.
“What’s the problem, ragazzo?” Zia asked.
Alfie shrugged. “I guess . . . I guess I just want to be naturally good at playing the drums. I don’t want to practice.”
Zia laughed as she rolled up the sleeves of her yellow silk blouse.
“What’s so funny?” Alfie was annoyed. He felt like no one was taking him seriously!
“I’m not laughing at you, Alfie,” Zia said. “I’m laughing because I remember feeling the same way about cooking.”
“But you are naturally good at cooking, Zia,” Emilia said, reading Alfie’s mind.
“It may seem that way now, but it took me years to be able to cook the way I do.”
“Really?” Alfie was surprised.
“Sure,” Zia continued. “I’ve always loved cooking and some parts of it have come easy for me, but I still had many teachers and I needed to practice a lot. You can’t expect to get good at anything without practice.”
“I had to practice a ton for ballet,” Emilia added. “There’s no way I could have remembered all the positions, otherwise.”
“And I would get frustrated with recipes that I couldn’t get right,” said Zia. “Some dishes are very complicated to make. But imagine if I had given up? I wouldn’t be able to make all the wonderful meals that bring our family together.”
“And that take us to new places!” Alfie added.
Zia smiled. “So just stick with it, and you’ll be amazed at the progress you make!”
“Okay.” Alfie nodded. He guessed Zia and Emilia had a point. He stood up and went back out to the garage.
• • •
“Another award-winning meal, Zia!” Dad said after dinner that night. Zia and Emilia had made baked salmon and risotto with roasted vegetables. Alfie had to agree that it was pretty delicious.
“Grazie,” Zia said. “I couldn’t have done it without Emilia’s help.”
“I’m always happy to help you in the kitchen, Zia,” Emilia said. “Much more fun than math homework.”
“Well, I guess we better get going.” Mom pushed back from the table. “We don’t want to be late for the PTA meeting.”
“That’s right,” Dad said. “If we’re late, we get stuck in the back and we can’t argue with Mrs. Phillips as much.”
“Oh, Mauricio,” Mom said.
Dad winked at Alfie and Emilia, and they laughed.
Mom went to get her coat and purse from the hall. When she returned she said, “Alfie and Emilia, you’re on cleanup duty.”
Alfie saluted. “Yes, ma’am.
”
“And then it’s time for homework—even math, Emilia. And no UFO Goo World tonight, Alfie.”
“It’s Alien Slime Universe, Mom!”
Mom kissed Alfie on the top of the head. “Right.”
“Be good!” Dad waved as they headed out to the car.
Alfie started clearing the table while Emilia put the dishes in the dishwasher. Then Alfie noticed an egg sitting on the counter.
“Are you going to make something, Zia?” he asked.
“I thought I’d make some cheese buns for the morning,” she replied, pulling the blender out of the cupboard.
“Can we help?” Emilia asked.
“Naturalmente! Of course! Grab the milk from the fridge. Alfie, set the oven to four hundred degrees so it can preheat.”
Alfie turned the dial on the oven, and Zia placed two mini-muffin tins on top of the stove.
“I learned to make these cheese buns in Brazil,” Zia said as she sprayed cooking spray into the muffin tins. Not only was Zia an amazing cook, she was also a world traveler. Alfie and Emilia loved hearing stories about all the places Zia had been and the experiences she’d had.
“Wow, Brazil!” Alfie could picture the South American country on a map. He was obsessed with geography and maps—even more than video games. “That’s the biggest country in South America—and one of the largest in the world!”
“That’s right,” Zia said. She measured out milk and vegetable oil and poured them into the blender.
“And although Brazil is surrounded by Spanish-speaking countries, they speak Portuguese because explorers from Portugal settled there a long time ago,” Emilia added. Emilia’s love of history almost rivaled Alfie’s love of maps . . . almost!
“I’m impressed, you two!” Zia said. “Now, this recipe is called pão de queijo in Portuguese. And I ate these delicious rolls almost every morning when I was there.”
“Powng-deh-kay-joo,” Alfie said, sounding out the words.
“Correct,” Zia said. She handed the egg to Emilia. “Want to add this to the blender?”
Rio de Janeiro! Page 1