Dear all,

There are two memories that immediately came to my mind when I’ve
heard Alberto left us: the first and last time I saw him. I’d like to
share them, together with a story. They are just a little addition to
all that has already been said about Alberto, but it is a little
addition that counts a lot to me.

At the beginning of 2002 Alberto and Titti played what I would
definitely call a crucial role in my life. After my master degree in
2001 I started to work in the industry, at Telecom Italia Labs. An
interesting job, but feeling I was missing something I did apply for
the PhD program in Padova.  When I was admitted I seek for a PhD
advisor, but for one reason or the other my search was not as
expected. So, I went to Titti, who was the PhD program coordinator, to
tell her I would have stayed in the industry. She suggested talking to
Alberto, who I hadn’t consulted yet, before making a final decision,
and led me to his office. That afternoon I had a long chat with
Alberto. I found myself in front of someone not only highly
knowledgeable, but so passionate and enthusiast about research to be
contagious. He helped me ponder pros and cons of my alternatives, with
deep argumentations, and finally he gave me a paper, “Of maps bigger
than the empire”, saying if I had liked it, I would have known what to
do. The following day I returned to Turin, where I was working, and
told my boss I made up my mind. My PhD with Alberto had just begun.

As a by-side note, when we left Alberto’s office it was dark outside.
Considering the area nearby the university is not exactly the safer in
Padova, Alberto, being the gentleman he was, waited with me at the bus
stop, although he did not need to take the bus.

Two years ago I met Alberto at his hotel in Lipari, to discuss with
him some problems that would have lead, few months later, to my joint
paper with both Alberto and Titti! Then we were joined by my husband,
with my son, and by Titti, and we had a nice drink together on the
terrace. I remember Alberto showing his boat to my son, explaining to
him (who was not even two years old) that one was indeed a very good
boat, while those on the horizon were all “ugly” boats (or whatever
the translation of “schifezze” is!). That was the last time I saw him
in person. It was a really nice afternoon, and I will treasure it
forever.

Alberto liked to play jokes on me about few things. His favourite was
definitely cooking, although he never ate anything cooked by me (while
I ate something cooked by him, but this is another story). Here is how
it all began.


The tomato sauce.

Towards the end of my PhD I visited Alberto in West Lafayette and he
was so kind to help me settling. One day he drove me to buy some food
and then we went separately to search for what we needed. It was my
first time in the States and I was looking, without much success, for
familiar brands. When I had to choose some tomato sauce I was really
lost. I usually buy “passata di pomodoro” without any addition, which
is the basis for the tomato sauce. But I could not find it. The choice
was between ready-to-use tomato sauces, or to buy some tomatoes and
make the sauce myself. Now, I have to admit I am a bit lazy when it
comes to cooking, so I picked what looked to me as the simplest
ready-to-use sauce (i.e. tomato and basil). In that precise moment I
felt another presence. Alberto was in front of me, with a look of
great disapproval: “Not even I would ever buy something like that!” he
told me. Quickly I put the sauce back to the shelf, and ask him what
he usually bought (note that Titti was not there that semester for a
more reliable culinary advise). Alberto browsed the shelves and moved
further in the aisle till he found what he was looking for: “Ah, there
you are!”, and put a couple of cans in my shopping cart. Then he left
with a smile of satisfaction, maybe because he saved me from a deadly
sin for an Italian or, most likely, because he had found something to
playfully tease me on for the years to come. In any case, I was
curious to see what he put in my cart. I took one of the cans and it
was... Tomato Soup! Feeling a little less ashamed for my original
choice, a smile appeared on my face too, while following him to the
cash counter.

Since then I’ve heard several times, especially at dinner parties,
Alberto telling the story of my dreadful choice of tomato sauce, so to
explain to other guests why I was strictly forbidden to go any close
to the kitchen. I have to say he was so funny in telling the story
that it was only recently that I revealed to him that, if he was
really using what he put in my cart, he must have had “spaghetti with
tomato soup”!

Cinzia

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