Amid the bustle and hubbub of a preferred Riviera cafe, a baritone burble rises via the ground, vibrating up high, tasteful heels and tapered desk legs to resonate all around the rims of slender-stemmed wine glasses.
Indignant pops and crackles from the street exterior are followed by a closing ear-splitting bark that sees meals spill from silver forks and a waiter, weaving via the startled diners, drop an unopened bottle of Biondi Santi onto unforgiving terracotta tiles.
Claudio Roddaro…
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