Patoni was always a mason.
Now we're getting somewhere. What do the Masons and the Sacreds have in common, oh 'Yard faithful?
No, the man didn't stuff pasta or pastries, but he did enjoy his Sfogliatella, both from Mozzicato's in his adopted home of Hartford, and especially the ones I would bring up from Lucibello's in New Haven. I started out bringing them up for Lew, but when Enzo arrived the order quickly doubled! I swear, in the right light, I could tell the difference between the tiles he fabricated on the days when he was fueled by the Lucibello's pastries and those he made on all the other days (not unlike the Beinecke Rare Book Library at Yale, the Patoni tiles are fabricated under strict conditions that allow the filtration of damaging light, leaving only a sort of luminescence that preserves the contents within).
I have heard that a Patoni kiln is in fact functional and back in the home town of Caltagirone, Sicily.
This is good news, in that there may be a possible solution to this dilemma if this is true. If a direct descendent of Enzo (eligible to be a Mason) is able to work with the original kiln, there is a *chance* that replacement tiles could be properly fabricated. As you know, although Enzo was a devoted husband, his wife was, sadly, barren. However, he was known to have a fondness for pasty, overweight co-eds, and to have spread the seed of his loin far and wide throughout the hills of Storrs, often cruising the Dairy Bar for prospects. Legend has it that their skin reminded him of the Alabaster with which he most loved to work. So...keep an eye out for men in the area around 23 to 25 years old, partly of Italian descent, with a single mother, or a mother who has married someone who doesn't appear to be his father. You may be looking at a Patoni, and perhaps our last, best hope to remedy this vexing situation.
