mary eats

Part 2.

After our 14 hours in Denmark Kevin boarded an SAS flight Rome Bound. It was my second trip to Italy, and I am still on the fence with this culinary great. My first trip, to Florence a couple summers ago is marked with endelss cups of gelato and bowls of salad to battle the summer heat. I never had that life changing meal that so many speak of when they return from Italy. No eye closing, “mmmmmmm” inducing, swirling thoughts of pleasure. Instead I found Tuscan food heavy, bland, and for the love of god, please put some salt in your bread people! That whole Medici salt tax business ended eons ago!

This trip to the Almafi coast gave me hope for a better run with Italian food, after all we’d be heading to the home of pizza.

View of the coast from our villa’s kitchen balcony

in town

restaurant sign

cafe menu

almafi lemons: the most wonderful lemons around. The size of an oblong grapefruit with the perfume of lemon so pure you’d swear it was artificial.

gardens in Revello

me, fish shopping for Nate and Jen’s wedding meal

window shopping for sweets

kevin and his pizza

me and gnocci

The main purpose of the trip was to cook the reception meal for Kevin’s cousin’s wedding so we didn’t get too much sight seeing in. Food was on the brain for the duration of the trip, if it wasn’t what to cook for dinner it was navigating my way through a 4 course four hour Italian dinner. With an early departure time from Rome, kevin and I hightailed it outta Almafi and up to Rome for a day of eating before our flight home.

Food shop in Rome where Kev and I indulged in oil cured tuna and caper stuffed sweet peppers.

the river at dusk

more food shops in Rome

pre-dinner snack. Thick bread pizza.

world’s biggest forcemeat?

After a week of pasta and pizza Kevin and I were ready for something different and got it with Africa, what appears to be one of two ethnic restaurants in Rome (the other a Chinese restaurant near our hostel). The place was packed, the sidewalk outside was packed, and for good reason. Savory stews atop sour Ehtopian bread, injera, made from the grain tef.

A last stop before our train to the airport

a perfect cappuccino

I’m sad to report that I never got the Italian meal of my dreams. Most everything tasted as I remembered, I did however pick up a few culinary treasures to schlepp back home (namely a lemon infused olive oil from Sorrento).

Perhaps those who report of culinary greatness are traveling with locals, out side of the city center, or college students on a break from fast food and dorm room ramen. I’ve often said that Asia is my Europe, referring to my attachment, awe and beguilement that varied continent bestows on me. It is possible that I will never fall in love with Italy the way I’ve fallen for Japan. Nonetheless, I’m sure the challenge will present itself again, at some point, me and Italy, for that perfect Italian meal.