As my boyfriend and I strolled along a seafront promenade on Elba Island, passing colorful Tuscan buildings, we found a hole-in-the-wall bar for aperitivo. A chalkboard hanging on the door read speciale di ostriche, which my other half promptly ordered for us. My Italian is elementary and his English is intermediate, so there are times when we always don’t understand each other. I thought we were eating ostrich; he was puzzled. I showed him an ostrich on my iPhone; he laughed. We were eating oysters.