To Julie Morgan, my Miami vice and partner in crime.
Thanks for all the adventures, and here’s to many more to come!
GROSSET & DUNLAP
Penguin Young Readers Group
An Imprint of Penguin Random House LLC
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Text copyright © 2015 by GDL Foods, Inc. Illustrations copyright © 2015 by Francesca Gambatesa. All rights reserved. Published by Grosset & Dunlap, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 345 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014. GROSSET & DUNLAP is a trademark of Penguin Random House LLC.
ISBN 978-0-399-53993-0
Version_1
Contents
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
A Note from Giada
Enjoy a taste of the eighth book in the series.
Recipes
“You should have seen me, Zia!” Alfie said to his great-aunt. He scooted forward and leaned over the front seat of the car. Zia Donatella had just picked Alfie up from soccer, and they were parked in front of the school, waiting for Alfie’s sister, Emilia, to come out of her dance practice.
“Dimmi,” Zia said in Italian, turning in the driver’s seat to face Alfie. “Tell me.”
“Jackson and I were flying down the field, passing the ball back and forth. We had the best rhythm going. Then Jackson got blocked, but he passed and I scored a goal. It was awesome!”
Zia laughed. “Ben fatto! Well done.”
“It was only a practice game,” Alfie said. “But still! Coach Schrader was really excited about our teamwork, and I know we’re going to beat the Thunderbirds this weekend! It’s our first big game of the season, and they beat us bad last time we played, but we’re ready for them this time.”
“That’s great, Alfie,” Zia said. “It’s going to be an exciting game.”
“For sure,” Alfie said, smiling.
The passenger door opened, and Emilia slid into the backseat next to Alfie. Alfie sat back and put on his seat belt.
“Ciao, bella,” Zia said to Emilia. “How was your practice?”
Zia and Alfie listened for Emilia’s reply, but she mumbled something they couldn’t understand as she tossed her gym bag on the floor and fastened her seat belt.
Zia started the car and pulled away from the curb. They drove in silence for a while. Alfie looked out at the bright green grass and beautiful flowers on the lawns they passed. There had been a lot of rain this spring, and it seemed like everything had suddenly bloomed. Alfie glanced over at Emilia. She sat perfectly still. He could see Zia watching Emilia, too, in the rearview mirror.
“Everything okay?” Zia asked.
Alfie looked at his sister again. Even though she was a year and a few months older than him, and enjoyed reminding him of that every single day, right now she looked very small. Alfie thought she might cry. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
Emilia stared at the seat in front of her and picked at the headrest. She was definitely holding something back. Finally, it all came out in a rush. “Practice was terrible! There’s no way I’m going to make the dance team. I’m the worst one—everybody is better than me!” Emilia buried her face in her hands.
Alfie looked at her, surprised. He hadn’t seen her this upset since the time she couldn’t go to her friend’s birthday sleepover. And he’d never seen her get upset over dance—it had become her new passion, and she loved it.
“Surely that’s not true, ragazza,” Zia said in a soothing voice.
Emilia dropped her hands from her face. “It is true! There are so many girls trying out this year, and they’re all really good. They all have their routines down pat, and I’m still not even sure what I want my routine to be!”
“When are the tryouts?” Alfie asked.
“Two weeks!” Emilia cried.
“That seems like lots of time,” Alfie said. He thought he was being helpful, but Emilia gave him a look like he wasn’t.
“The worst part is that Becky has this amazing dance move. I’ve never seen anything like it. And it totally ties her routine together and makes her stand out from the rest of us.”
Alfie and Zia were quiet. Alfie wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t want to set Emilia off again, but Becky was her friend—it seemed like Emilia should be excited for her.
“I don’t have a special move,” Emilia continued. “And if Becky makes the team and I don’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Emilia put her head in her hands again and a little squeak escaped her lips.
Alfie wanted to say something else encouraging, but he wasn’t sure what. Emilia was quiet next to him. After a few minutes, he couldn’t stand the tense silence any longer, so he decided to change the subject. “Um, what’s for dinner tonight, Zia?”
“I made some homemade ravioli today,” Zia answered.
“Yum!” Alfie said. Zia was an amazing cook and during the time she’d been staying with the Bertolizzis, she had made some of the best food Alfie had ever had.
“I just need to make a salad when we get home. Maybe you can help,” Zia said.
“Sure!” Alfie replied. Helping Zia in the kitchen had become one of his and Emilia’s favorite things. Alfie never imagined that he’d love cooking and learning new recipes as much as he did, but there was something about the way Zia described everything that made it extra special—not to mention extra magical! Alfie and Emilia had visited some incredible places all around the world thanks to Zia’s enchanted recipes. They were always eager to know where Zia’s secret ingredients might take them next.
Alfie looked over at Emilia, expecting her to be thinking the same thing, but she was still absolutely quiet. He slumped back in his seat. He hated seeing Emilia this upset and wanted to help, but he just didn’t know how.
Early Saturday afternoon, Alfie wandered to the living room, hoping to play video games for a while. His parents had rushed off to the office as soon as the breakfast dishes were done. They’d been working more than ever lately—including on the weekends. Dad had explained their tight deadlines earlier that morning, but Alfie thought he just looked tired and could use a break.
Alfie heard the music before he reached the living room and then stopped in the doorway to watch. Emilia had pushed the coffee table out of the way and was working on her dance routine. He was a little surprised by Emilia’s music choice—he thought she’d pick something a little peppier than the slow beat of this song. But her dance moves looked good. She was such a perfectionist.
Emilia stomped over to her cell phone and stopped the song. Then she noticed Alfie.
“Don’t watch!” she said.
“How come?” Alfie asked
. “You look good!”
“No, I don’t! I can’t get anything right.”
Alfie didn’t understand why Emilia was being so hard on herself. He knew she was a natural dancer, and she had never doubted it before now. “But I’ve seen you do samba in two Carnival parades in Rio de Janeiro and do a hula performance in Hawaii with barely any coaching!” Alfie said, thinking about a couple of their Zia adventures.
Emilia sighed. “This is different. I have to do the routine all by myself. And everybody’s supercompetitive and really talented. I’m just not good enough.”
Emilia started the song again and glanced back at Alfie, waiting for him to leave. But Alfie stayed, anyway. Emilia’s frustration with herself continued to grow. And it looked like she was trying to copy someone else’s moves—Becky’s, Alfie supposed, but it didn’t look quite right.
Zia came into the room and stood beside him. Emilia switched off her song again.
“How about a lunch break?” Zia asked.
“Yes, please!” Alfie and Emilia said in unison. Alfie was starving, as usual, and he knew Emilia was looking for any excuse to take a break from her routine.
“Great,” Zia said.
Zia put her arm around Emilia and led her into the kitchen. Alfie followed close behind. Emilia was still quiet. “I know you’ll figure it out,” Zia told her. “Don’t get so down on yourself.”
Emilia nodded and managed a small smile.
Alfie took his usual place at the kitchen island and waited for Zia to assign him a task. Zia opened the refrigerator and pulled out honey mustard, butter, some deli meat, Swiss cheese, dill pickles, and arugula. “What are we making, Zia?” he asked.
Zia then took some whole-wheat rolls out of the bread box on the counter. “We are making Cubano sandwiches with an Italian twist.”
“Cubano?” Emilia asked. “As in Cuban?”
“That’s right!” Zia answered.
“I’ve never had a Cuban sandwich before,” Alfie said. “Let alone an Italian Cuban sandwich!”
Zia laughed. “Well, you’re going to love my version.”
Zia put the cutting board on the counter and sliced each of the long wheat rolls in half horizontally. Then she pulled a couple of dill pickles out of the jar and cut those into long, thin slices, as well. Zia slid one roll toward Emilia, who stood beside her at the island, and the other to Alfie. “Spread some honey mustard on each half of the roll. Then add a slice of Swiss cheese to the bottom half.”
Once their ingredients were added, Zia piled several pieces of meat on each sandwich.
“Is that prosciutto?” Emilia asked.
“Yes, it is,” Zia said.
“Sweet!” Alfie replied. He loved the thinly sliced Italian ham.
“Now you can add the dill pickle and arugula. Then put two more slices of the cheese on each and add the top of the bread.”
Alfie stood up to reach the other ingredients. He, Emilia, and Zia worked on their sandwiches. Alfie’s stomach growled loudly. “I like Cuban sandwiches already,” he said, and Zia laughed.
“The first time I had a Cuban sandwich was—” Zia started.
“In Cuba?” Emilia offered.
“No, in Miami. There’s a very big Cuban population in Miami.”
“That must be because Miami and Cuba are so close together,” Alfie said. He could picture the state of Florida jutting out into the sea with the city of Miami near the tip and the island of Cuba floating just beyond in the Caribbean. Aside from soccer and playing the drums, Alfie’s passion was maps. He loved geography and spent hours studying maps.
“È vero,” Zia said. “It’s true. Cubans have been migrating to the United States via Miami for many, many years.”
“When were you in Miami, Zia?” Emilia asked.
“I’ve been there at least four or five times,” Zia replied. Not only had Zia sent Alfie and Emilia on adventures all over the world, she had also traveled a ton herself—exploring places from South America to China and everywhere in between.
“Wow!” Alfie said. “You must really like it there.”
Zia smiled. “I do! Miami is warm and sunny, and the beaches are beautiful. And since it’s so close to the Caribbean, there’s a great mix of food and culture there.”
“My social-studies teacher told us that in Miami, more people speak Spanish than English,” Emilia said.
“She’s right,” Zia said. “I definitely learned some Spanish in Miami. Sometimes it feels like you’re in a Latin American country because the influence of those cultures is so strong there. Miami is very proud of its multiethnic heritage.”
“That’s cool,” Alfie said. “I bet it would be a lot more fun to learn Spanish in Miami than in Mrs. Vega’s class.”
Zia laughed. “Being surrounded by a language every day is a pretty quick way to pick it up,” she said.
“Even just being in Naples for a day, I felt like I could understand more Italian,” Alfie said.
Zia smiled, but didn’t say anything. She added the top to her sandwich and pressed it down. Alfie and Emilia did the same with their sandwiches. Then Zia put a pat of butter in the skillet, along with a drizzle of olive oil. She turned on the heat, and Alfie watched the butter and oil melt together and start to bubble.
“Hand me the sandwiches, Alfie,” Zia said. “The pan’s almost ready.”
Alfie carefully picked up the sandwiches and brought them to Zia at the stove. She put them in the pan and then placed a smaller skillet on top of the bread to keep them pressed against the bottom.
“It’s like a panini,” Emilia said.
“Exactly,” Zia replied. “This way the cheese will get nice and melted inside.”
“So you learned to make this sandwich in Miami?” Alfie asked.
“I did. And that’s where I also made it my own signature sandwich by adding the Italian twist of prosciutto and arugula.” Zia removed the skillet and checked the bottom of each sandwich. The bread was a nice golden-brown color. “Get me a spatula, will you, Emilia?”
Emilia pulled a spatula from the canister on the counter that held a bouquet of utensils in various shapes, sizes, and colors.
Zia flipped the sandwiches over carefully and put the small skillet back on top. The bread sizzled against the pan. “It's almost done! And it smells delicious.”
“So how did you think to make these sandwiches with an Italian twist?” Emilia asked.
Zia smiled, as if remembering a specific moment in time. “Food in Miami and the Caribbean is all about flavors—how spices work together to complement different tastes, textures, and colors. Cooking in Miami was where I really learned to try different things. I gained a lot of confidence there and started experimenting more with recipes instead of just sticking to what I had been taught.”
“That sounds fun!” Alfie said.
“It was fun! And it was a very important lesson for me to always add my own bit of flavor and flair to a recipe. It’s a lesson that has helped me be the cook I am today.”
“What else did you like about Miami?” Emilia asked.
“It’s such an exciting place. It has a great beach scene and it’s a buzzing city. It feels very different from somewhere more laid-back, like Maui, in Hawaii. There’s music and food and art everywhere you go.”
“That sounds kind of like New Orleans,” Alfie said, remembering the music all around the city when he and Emilia visited during Jazz Fest.
“It’s similar to New Orleans in that they both have such a distinct and interesting feel,” Zia said. “But they are very different places at the same time.” Zia peeked at the sandwiches again. “Perfetto!”
Emilia grabbed three plates from the cupboard. Zia slid the two sandwiches onto plates and cut them in half. She placed the plates in front of Alfie and Emilia. “What about your sandwich, Zia?” Alfie asked.
“I’ll grill mine in a minute,” Zia said.
Alfie opened the drawer. “Are we out of napkins?”
“I think there are more in the garage,” Zia said. “I’ll go grab them. Let the sandwiches cool for a second before you try them.”
Emilia sat down next to Alfie at the island. Alfie pulled his sandwich closer and took a deep breath. He could smell the rich Swiss cheese and the prosciutto, as well as the sweetness of the honey mustard. He couldn’t wait any longer! He picked up half of his sandwich and blew on it to cool it off. Then he bit into the buttery, toasted bread. The saltiness of the prosciutto mixed perfectly with the tang of the mustard and the slightly spicy taste of the arugula. And the cheese balanced the whole thing out.
“Mmmmm. Ifth’s good,” Alfie said with his mouth full.
Emilia took a bite of her sandwich. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly. Alfie closed his eyes, too, to savor the taste. Just then, Alfie felt a sudden shift in the air around him. His stomach somersaulted in the way that he’d become accustomed to since Zia came to stay. It meant they were in for another great adventure!
Before Alfie had even opened his eyes, he could feel how different the air was. He could taste salt on his lips, and it wasn’t from the prosciutto in the Italian Cubano he’d just been eating. It was from the salty sea air he could smell. He felt the warmth of the sun on his skin—much stronger and hotter than the still-crisp days back home. He finally opened his eyes to see Emilia taking in their surroundings. They were standing right on a beach, looking out at the ocean in front of them. The waves were much smaller than they had been in Maui, and the water wasn’t as deep blue, but it looked just as inviting.
“Miami?” Emilia asked, rubbing her eyes against the sunlight.
“It must be, right?” Alfie responded, still looking out at the water. A few fishing boats motored past them beyond the waves.
“You came!” Alfie heard a man’s voice behind him and spun around. There was a row of huge buildings just beyond the beach, but what was happening on the beach really caught Alfie’s eye. There were giant tents, trucks, and trailers all around. Music and amazing food smells drifted through the air. And the crowds! People were everywhere. The man was wearing a purple T-shirt with some lettering and a very big smile on his face. He held a clipboard and wore a headset. He looked very official.
Miami! Page 1