The 50% off Mille Miglia extravaganza (Part 3)

For those of you who have not been reading Parts 1 and 2, it’s called the 50% off because the full Mille Miglia (1,000 miles) is a journey of … a thousand miles. We only did half of it, hence the 50% off.

Anything for a bargain.

*continuing from Chioggia, the fishing town with Orange Campari

After spending the day previously in Chioggia, we returned to Ferrara to discover that half the town’s residents, and the next town’s tourists, had all turned up in Ferrara for the Buskers’ Festival. Now, up to that point, I’d not heard of such a thing as the Buskers’ Festival, but this was a nice discovery.

The little cobbled pavements were bustling with the heat, laughing people, dancing children, men holding plastic cups of golden coloured beer, and tanned beautiful women with white teeth. The smell of salami and cheese panini filled the air, beautiful music floated in and out, and the sound of laughter was just so invigorating that we felt the need to join in, to explore.

No pictures here as we were too busy looking around, and didn’t want to worry about the camera bag with that many people around.

The next day, we had breakfast at the hotel which was surprisingly empty considering the fact that there were so many people in town the previous night. Anyhow, less people = more food for us, always a good thing when there are no waiters watching.

Maybe it’s just me, but I’d definitely not seen caviar on any of my breakfast menus before.

The buffet selection was huge, which was just as well, because our appetites were just as huge.

We continued our journey towards the country on a hill, San Marino.

The views from the bottom of the hill as we were going up changed slowly from hot, dusty and orange to cool, clean and green.

Ever seen one of those winding, spiral car park places? San Marino was like one giant, winding car park, with one road going steeply upwards with an almost U-turn bend going up the other way. The shops were tiny, the streets were cobbled, it was absolutely wonderful and unlike any other place I’d been to before.

No matter how wonderful a place is, one has to eat (I could have substituted the first bit of that sentence with anything, really).

Scusi moi, waiter. Could we have a table with a view, please.

The price of everything in the restaurant was so reasonable that we felt the need to order 3 meals between the 2 of us. As we couldn’t not order a pizza in Italy, nor could we miss out the Bolognese, there wasn’t much hesitation when the waiter came around to the table.

Being an absolute fan of the carbonara (my version is pretty good, but I have to constantly keep up the with competitors), I had to order it here. You must understand how difficult it can be to order something new when I only seem to be ordering carbonara everywhere I go.

The carbonara was enjoyable, though slightly different. Because I’ve had so many versions of this dish before, sometimes in rustic restaurants in London, sometimes in posher ones, and a few times in Italy, I’m quite lost as to which one actually is the authentic version.

This version had some cream in it, but also quite a bit of water resulting in a soup-like sauce. Instead of using just egg yolk, they must have had some egg white in it also, as there were bits of cooked egg white floating about in the sauce. A little bit cheesy, a little but salty, and a little bit … scrambled, it was one of the more interesting versions I’ve had.

The Bolognese was just OK. Nothing much to say about the sauce other than the fact that it tasted very same-ey, like plenty of other versions I’d had before. The pasta could have done with a bit more cooking, or a bit more oil when it was being cooked, as it kinda soaked up all the sauce, and then got stuck to other bits of pasta, resulting in one dry dish of pasta.

The pizza was the best dish of the meal. Soft and chewy dough, with fresh vegetables and cheese on top.

After the meal, we wanted to continue going around (literally) town, but the shops were beginning to close as the tourists slowly left. So, with no where to go, no shopping to do, and no more scenery to photograph, we decided to go back to the hotel and watch some Italian television (no subtitles either, what fun).

The next day, we drove to Assisi which is one of the towns on the way to Spoleto, the destination of the day. Not knowing much about Assisi, we were very surprised to discover that it looked very similar to San Marino, though without the steep hills.

Being another warm day with fantastic sunshine, we parked the car somewhere in town, went through a Roman tunnel (don’t ask me why it’s Roman) and looked for the town centre.

Those cobbled streets are really something, aren’t they. It was lunchtime, so we looked for a restaurant which would most resemble a non-touristy place but most of them were either full, or looked too expensive. Just as we were about to give up and go to McDonald’s (as if, just kidding) we found one little cafe which had Bob Dylan blaring out of the speakers. The bf decided that we just had to eat there, if not for the Bob Dylan factor alone.

One spinach sandwich and half an hour later, the waitress gave us the salami sandwich free as it was taking them too long to serve us. Of course that wasn’t enough, so we decided to get more food from another shop further down.

One thing I noticed here in Italy is that the sandwiches are usually prepared ahead and left in a fridge type place on display. When a customer buys the sandwich, it is warmed up in a Panini grill and it suddenly transforms from a cold, dry looking piece of bread to a lush, cheesy, warm sandwich.

Next: Roma

The 50% off Mille Miglia extravaganza (Part 2)

(continuing where we left off previously … from Verona)

After milling around Ms Juliet’s balcony, feeling hot and bothered among the hundreds of tourists doing the same thing, we decided to jump into the Fiat and continue on our journey. Using the Mille Miglia map that we took from the Internet (and thus, possibly containing incorrect information, thus rendering our journey baseless), the next destination we headed towards was Chioggia (via Ferrara where we checked in and dropped our bags in the hotel).

When Tom Tom first told us we had arrived, we took a good look around and saw:

- shops with shut windows and doors
- man with bored looking white dog
- a street with nothing more than parked cars

This could not be it, we thought. It was only lunchtime, how could this town be so silent, so empty, so like the City on a weekend? (I mean the City of London, ie Bank)

Reservations aside, we trudged on – sweat in hand, and everywhere else.

We walked down the one street next to the river, admittedly quite a pretty river filled with fishing boats, lots of fishing boats, and continued pondering on our previous questions.

Until we came to the bit where everyone was. Woohoo! We’d finally found some people!

Looking around the little square, quite obviously the main street or town centre, it was filled with people (I would say of all ages, but not really. It was mainly filled with people aged 40 and above).

Although it was only about 3pm, these carefree Italians were all out, sitting by their little chequered-clothed tables, sipping on their Campari Orange.

Even the dogs were relaxed, occasionally jumping into the little round bird baths located by the roads to have a dip (the pigeons didn’t look too pleased with that).

From what we saw, this seems to be a small fishing town, with the main town nearby being Venice. We saw quite a few people at the little boat stop waiting for the boat to get to Venice, and people returning from there carrying lots of shopping bags. Chioggia itself was more of a relaxed little seaside town, with tourists few and infrequent.

Not wanting to be one of those tourists who go into the first restaurant they see, we decided to have a little wander to check out the available places, until we realised that because this wasn’t really a tourist town, there weren’t that many touristy places, so in we went to the first restaurant which looked reasonable, had a reasonable menu, and had more than one table of customers.

Being in Italy, we had to have more pizza. While the choices of pizza here seem to be more on the, how would I say it, sustainable variety (ie not Hawaiian or Mighty Extravaganza). What I mean is that the types of pizza found here are the types I could eat everyday, which is handy because the people here probably did eat that everyday.

The base of the pizza was not too thick, not too thin, and stretched perfectly to retain the slightly chewy consistency of dough, while not being too crispy. What really made the difference was the fresh, top of the class ingredients put on top of the pizza. The cheese (not sure what type it was) was fresh, very cheesy, very chewy, and just so perfect that the pizza would have been edible and very tasty even without anything else being put on it. The rocket and fresh tomatoes on there just made it more fabulous.

Look, the cheese actually stretches.

I like pasta, alot. Whenever I get the chance to order pasta, I do it (unless that is superseded by the chance to order rice, which I like even more than pasta). So you can imagine how happy I was in Italy when it was pasta this and pasta that on almost every menu. Deciding to go off the beaten track, I shunned the carbonara (even though the versions I’d had here were delicious). Going for the mussels in white wine sauce was perhaps quite on the beaten track, but nevertheless, the taste was absolutely gorgeous. The slightly irony taste of the mussels contrasted with the acidic taste of the wine, slightly salty taste from the mussels, all absorbed happily by the pasta.

Another dish which fascinated me was the gnocchi. I’ve tried making this before, and ended up with potato dumplings the size of tennis balls, and wondered how people ate more than 5 of it at any one time. Now I know, and it’s because they’re not meant to be the size of tennis balls. These little dumplings of soft potato-ey loveliness were chewy, moist, and absorbed the cheesy, tomatoey sauce so well. If I make this again, I’m gonna have to try and make it this way/

Anyhow, apologies for the long absence to those who were wondering where I’ve been. Just been so busy at work, and with friends and family coming to visit that I’ve not had much time to blog about what I’ve eaten, and I’ve been eating lots.

The 50% off Mille Miglia extravaganza (Part 1)

The problem with having a blog is the urge to blog about anything and everything. For example, I could be going by a shop when I see a fabulous piece of cake, and I’d want to blog about it. Nevermind if I actually ate it or not, I’d want to take a picture of it, post it up here and talk about it.

Like how I saw the guy selling the most ginormous watermelons I’d ever seen.

Which is why I have about a thousand pictures from Italy, and no clue what to do with them (as in do I blog about ALL of them, or not at all).

Last month, we decided to do a 50% Mille Miglia race (sort of) in Italy. I say sort of because:

a) We only did about 500 miles of the 1,000 mile long race (re: 50%)
b) We didn’t have a vintage car for the journey (actually, it started off looking brand new, and the condition of it 5 days later wasn’t that pleasing)
c) It wasn’t much of a race, as we had to focus on keeping to the right (wrong) side of the road, while going anti-clockwise on the roundabout, and adhering to all sorts of weird and wonderful speed limits (for example, 30km/h on a straight long road; 70km/h on a winding, steep angular road going up a mountain)

The actual Mille Miglia race involves vintage cars ‘racing’ (inverted commas as these are after all, vintage cars) along a 1,000 mile route starting off at Brescia, with Rome being almost the mid-point of the race, and back again to Brescia. As we don’t have the dough for a vintage car (you might have guessed by now, from all the complaints about expensive restaurants), and neither did we have the guts to do this left-hand drive thing for a full 1,000 miles, we decided to go half-way instead.

Better half-way than no-way, hey Jose (no reason, just rhymes).

Thus, the journey began with a Ryanair flight from London to Verona-Brescia airport, where we picked up our little white Fiat 500 which was to be our mode of transport for the next 5 days. From the conversations we heard from the people in front of us in the queue, it was almost nerve-wracking to see if they had our car or not.

‘What? You don’t have the 7-seater I booked weeks ago? I have to call England to get it sorted out? The other rental agencies don’t have it either?’

When the guy at the back of the counter handed over our keys, I nearly jumped over the glass / plastic divider to hug him. Nearly. It was a full divider, so that would have been impossible.

After getting to grips with the whole being on the wrong side of the road concept, we headed off (first gear) into the sunset. Aside from a slight panic at the roundabout (which way do we look, do we keep in the inside lane if we want to turn left, do I even want to turn left, what if I just stayed on going round the roundabout), it was all OK as we whizzed our way on to Desenzano del Garda.

This place looked like Monaco in a James Bond film (ie luxurious settings in a yacht-filled lake). With little more than excitement squealing out our mouths, we parked the Fiat in the nearest parking space and scrambled out of the car, eager to take pictures of our first ever, quaint, Italian sunset.

Until the taxi driver told us that the Polizia were just kinda in the parking lot next to ours, we couldn’t park there, and that we should probably move from the space, pronto.

Next destination – Verona.

Verona, as we know it, was the setting for the Baz Luhrmann film, Romeo and Juliet (or Giulietta as the Italians call her). As such, we had to go find the balcony which (at this point the facts get slightly fuzzy):

- she spoke to Romeo from (I thought she was fictional?)
- inspired William Shakespeare to write the play
- someone similar to Juliet spoke to someone similar to Romeo from (possible also)

Anyhow, off we went to find this balcony of inspiration, and when we got there, there were about a thousand other similar tourists looking for said balcony. It must have been some Verona tradition or something, but people who posed with Juliet’s statue tended to pose with one hand over her bust (I asked why too).

In case some of you are wondering where the food was, and was under the impression that this was somehow an actual road trip (and not merely a gastronomical excuse for an extravaganza), this is what we had for breakfast in Verona – lots and lots of ham (or what was left by the time we got to breakfast), with some jam and croissant (not very Italian, I know, but we’re not Italians, not in Rome, and so, won’t do as Romans do).

Question of the day – When the road in front of you is very narrow, and you have to choose between your left wing mirror or your right, which one do you choose?

Answer – With the Fiat 500, you don’t have to choose. Both mirrors fit through comfortably, with enough space for a tango sideways if needs be (note: I am not sponsored by Fiat; merely, bowled over by the impressive capabilities of the little vroomer).

Next destination – Chioggia, city of fishing boats and a boat-ride away from Venice (to be continued, like a Matrix film)