In the Glory Hole

The Frenchman wasn't worried about his wife. The Italians broke into song at every chance.

Just another continental afternoon.

A girlfriend picked me up and whisked me off to La Parisienne for lunch where we walked in and were stopped by a line winding its way from the counter to the door.

This is a popular place at midday.

Finally at the front of the line, I ordered a bowl of today's soup, a roasted corn and steak, and met my friend at the bar to eat it.

She was doing her usual salad and fries, meaning I snagged a few still hot and steaming.

The owner came over to say hello and I greeted him with a continental kiss, leaving a print on one check.

When the chef walked out and spotted it, his only acknowledgement to his boss was, "You can sleep at my house when your wife sees that."

We lingered for another hour chatting, getting a taste of a new sandwich that's going on the menu in March (lox with a dill yogurt sauce and slaw on a crusty baguette), giving it an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Following so much French was so much Italian at the madhouse that is the last week of Chihuly at VMFA.

I waited in line for fifteen minutes just to pick up tickets for the film, "Chihuly and the Masters of Venice," which I'd ordered in advance.

The film introduced two Italian masters, one of glass blowing and one of glass sculpture, and the projects they worked on with Team Chihuly.

Lino, the master blower, explained that he listened to what the glass told him to do and then executed it.

The pieces he created with the team began as being Art Deco-inspired and gradually became something more offbeat.

Or, as Lino put it, "More American than Venetian."

Not always a good thing, but in this case, fantastical glass pieces, some reaching almost four feet high.

I cracked up at a scene of him leading the worshipful glass acolytes in singing "Volare" in the workshop.

Later he cooked massive pasta meals for the entire crew, saying he'd chosen cooking over raising children when his wife gave him a choice.

Smart man.

Pino was the handsome glass sculptor, considered the best in the world.

Not surprisingly, he also sang while he worked, sometimes Italian songs and other times "Old MacDonald Had a Farm."

His elaborate glass sculpture series of putti on and holding animals was a fascinating process to watch.

He sliced the glass, making legs and a butt crack. He crafted elaborate curl hair for the putti. Heads were attached once body details were complete.

"Putti are happiest in glass," he pronounced, relegating marble, metal and painted putti to second class.

And he can because he's the master.

Watching the American team work with the Italians, it was clear that they were in awe of what they were experiencing.

As one of them said, "I feel like we're learning centuries of technique from two guys."

Yes, but two Italian guys.

The kind who don't worry about their wives noticing lipstick prints on their cheeks.

Because they're Italian masters.

E-I-E-I-O.