My three brief visits to Brussels, Ghent and Bologna have me convinced that each major European city has a traditional comfort food accessible along its age-old streets. In Brussels, I was hard-pressed to turn a corner without being greeted by a chocolate shop adorned with huge chocolate Easter bunnies; in Ghent, salty, fried fritter carts and shops posted near every cobble-stoned common and in Bologna, most streets housed a Gelato shop or two.
Not being one to pass on this sort of thing, I was all too happy to test my buddy's theory that Bologna Gelato was the best in Italy. Options weren't limited, so I had plenty of opportunity to try this curious cousin of ice-cream. In truth, there's apparently not much different between the two; one source claims that the main difference is that Gelato just has a lower butterfat content (by about half). Regardless, it was still delicious.
On the ground for less than an hour, I had my first taste of Gelato: Pistachio and Chocolate Fudge. The verdict: Smooth, Light and Delicious.
My Last Tasting. Raved about by students and locals alike, the Castiglione Gelateria is renowned as the best in the country.
After a Chocolate Mousse and Vanilla Cream taste, I can't disagree.
Between Gelato tastings, it was easy to eat some food of substance in a valiant attempt to even the palate. Thankfully, the country's culinary capital offered a range of favorites, old and new. The experience started with a Friday dinner, hosted by "Uncle Joe" and members of his Spanish class. Everyone either brought or prepared something for the potluck, ranging from home-made egg rolls to a beef pot roast. Wine went down like water and the Gelato-based desserts made for a smooth ending (and a great snack in following days).
The Spanish Class Potluck. "Uncle Joe Decoco" introduced me to about ten of his closest colleagues, each excited for the end of their first year, the prospects of various summer internships and the coming year back in the American capital. Age, experience and aspirations varied but everyone shared a laid-back ease that made me look forward to beginning my first year in the fall. Thanks Natalia, Mateo, Ahan, Melodie, Justin and Christine!
Not to be out-done by the wide variety of food the previous night, Saturday lunch didn't disappoint with an old favorite: pizza. Picking out the most meat-laden pie on the menu, the hot dog-topped "Tuti" didn't last long in front of me.
New York-style is the best way I can decscribe the pizzas I encountered: flat, a little greasy and folded length-wise.
After lunch, we strolled along the downtown sites. Though I'll get into most of these tomorrow, one deserves mention today. The Quadrilatero is a district by the Piazza Maggiore that hosts a fresh garden market as well as savory meats and cheeses. One of the more distinguished shops is Tamburini.
Walking past the Tamburini, the smell of Muenster and freshly-milled pork links escaped through the open door, daring me to enter.
Cured ham bones and links hang, tempting the passing public.
A smaller, more controlled version of Fes' markets.
Saturday dinner was my authentic Italian moment, helped by none other than a fellow Olmsteder, Lou Frketic. An evening with Lou and the rest of the small group reaffirmed my desire to improve my Arabic language skills and return to Italy for a second helping.
Having been in country for almost two years now, Lou has his Italian down in the restaurant. As my host, Joe, quipped, "Italians will talk for hours about food." After listening to Lou haggle and mince Italian with our evening hosts for a little over five minutes, I'm convinced Joe's right. After the four-course dinner we polished off, I'm all convinced that Lou's Italian may be as good as his his taste in food.
Lucky Basterds: Natalia, Melodie, Justin, Joe, me, Lou and his wife.
Tortolini Soup: Specially made, the shells taste better smaller. Soaked in chicken broth, even better.
Lasagna: Another favorite, the marinara was missing but wasn't missed.
Tagle Telle: Fettuccine noodles and minced beef. The noodles melted.
Sirloin and Rosemary Potatoes: When I thought the meal was finished, this olive-soaked masterpiece arrived. Medium rare, oily, salty.
Strawberries and Custard. Un-notching the belt would no longer due; time to take it off.
After Saturday's feast, I opted for a salad-topped pizza for Sunday lunch (just to say I ate a little healthy).
Arugula and Tomatoes. Not normally a fan, but this worked.
By the time that Sunday dinner rolled around, it was time to see how the seafood was. Fried shrimp and seafood spaghetti rounded out the culinary experience at one of the students' favorite haunts.
Big, Enough, Moist, Oily, Lightly Breaded, Tasty.
I knew the teaspoon of red pepper was a mistake. Trying to play it off after the first couple of bites, I could no longer disguise the pain caused by the spice as my face began to sweat and nose began to run. Thank you, Ahan, for the recommendation.
To put out the flames, it was Tiramisu to the rescue.
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