Story: Race to Salumi Salvation

If Dolphin was going to get the pancetta in time, he was going to have to hustle.

His drink, a fresh, dry gin martini, would have to wait. This pained him, but the cocktail was easily replaceable, whereas the pancetta (the good pancetta, the only one that was an option) had been left behind at the butcher shop.

How this had happened he could not fathom, but it had happened, and so the situation would be rectified.

In truth, Jess would probably drink the martini, knowing he’d not later consume a warmed-up version of the fine drink they’d so carefully crafted together for the present moment. She’d have another one waiting for him, timed for his return. Probably.

“It’s really fine,” Jess said, referencing the missing ingredient, as he rushed to leave.

“The plan was a nice carbonara. I’ll be damned if I’ll sub bacon.

“Well, no, we wouldn’t do that,” Jess admitted.

So he hopped on the KTM and he rode.

There was just enough time to make it, without requiring too much recklessness of him on the streets. He’d been lucky that they’d realized the mistake before his first sip of gimlet.

The evening air had chilled significantly, with the sun falling fast in the sky. But the roads were fine, and fairly empty, which made the going swift. He throttled, he leaned, he closed in on the night’s salvation.

Dolphin ignored a brilliant photo opportunity along the way, a twilight silhouette of downtown, set against the darkening horizon. There would be other opportunities for a similar shot, and in truth he already had plenty. Still, it would have been a good snap.

But the pancetta was arguably just as fleeting. It was part of an idea, a shared imagination for the evening, an ingredient not only for the dish but the night’s carefully curated date. Its attainment was a commitment to the many-faceted pursuit of experiential excellence. He did this not only for Jess, or for their planned romantic dinner, but for himself.

It was also fun to have a mission.

He sped along, and made it back to the butcher in time. The call ahead had been a smart backup plan, but it proved unnecessary. The butcher had held the salted delicacy for them, prepared to stay open another ten or fifteen minutes. He hadn’t needed that.

He popped a victory wheelie on his return trip, for good measure.

Back home, the momentum carried. He knew it would.

The carbonara was a success.

The martinis long a memory, they savored an Italian white, curated expertly by Jess, during the meal. Every other ingredient did their job, but the pancetta punctuated the experience.

“Well, you did it, Dolphin,” Jess said with a smile.

“T’was nothing.”

Had it been a major adventure? That depended on one’s definition. Heroes, in his opinion, did right by their salumi. Not just in some cases, but all.

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This story was commissioned by Jess, for Dolphin. It was written by Michael DiBiasio-Ornelas, via Last Site Press. To order your own Custom Short Story, click here.