The moment we stepped into the restaurant, we were wrapped in the warmth of Naples: there was a huge, gleaming baroque copper espresso machine on the bar and a vast array of artisanal grappas behind it, old family photographs on the walls, and Tommaso himself—burly, bearded Thomas Verdillo, monumental in a flouncy black-and-white Pagliaccio costume and floppy red jester's hat, enveloping us in a bear hug. Instantly the waiters covered our table with antipasti: grilled, roasted, marinated, and stuffed vegetables; fresh mozzarella and aged provolone; bread studded with pork cracklings; salami, anchovies, olives, breadsticks, and more. Hot antipasti followed: baked clams, fried calamari, mussels marinara, fried mozzarella sandwiches; baked, stuffed, and sauced hot vegetables; and cotica—meltingly tender pork skin stuffed with walnuts, pecorino, parsley, and raisins, then braised with cabbage and cotechino sausage. We didn't choose; we got it all. And this was only the beginning. Tonight we were guests in a Neapolitan home, and the family honor would not let us leave until we were as effectively stuffed as the pork skins.