Damn those squirrels

This week's Finn and Charlie.

Squirrels are brazen little things.

Labels: comic

posted by Tony at 6:35 PM | 1 comments

Finally! More crocus jokes

Damn, but it's been hard getting this week's cartoon up. Two flight foul-ups kept me away from my drawing board for a long time.

Anyway, here's a Finn and Charlie are Hitched cartoon that should have gone up last Tuesday. *SIGH*

Labels: comic

posted by Tony at 6:06 PM | 2 comments

Reach out for that hand - 10/26 show

Since I've taken to naming my playlists for a line from the first song I play, I've been avoiding playing the Cocteau Twins as my first song. This week, I forgot. The Cocteau Twins lyrics are usually a combination of indecypherable syllables ("sah-bo-sah-tah-tah-tah") and nonsense phrases ("sugar hiccups on cheerios"); "Carolyn's Fingers" seems to be entirely the former (though I did find a web page purporting to have the lyrics to this song). I was introduced to the Cocteau Twins in high school, when my sister gave me a copy of Lonely is an Eyesore, a sort of sampler from the label 4AD. The Cocteau Twins are represented by the song "Crushed", and I liked it a lot. (The same album introduced me to the Wolfgang Press and Dead Can Dance, bands whose albums I later bought, and who I've played on my show.) "Carolyn's Fingers" came out when I was in high school, and features arpeggio-like vocal that I remember my friend Eleanor describing as "root toot toot". It's also a standout track on Blue Bell Knoll, and really a standout track in the Cocteau Twins whole career (though perhaps not truly indicative of their sound, in the way "How Soon Is Now" is not indicative of the Smiths' sound).

While in Italy I picked up one CD. I didn't go music shopping, as I had in France (and even Spain). I have no faith that I'd find anything worthwhile. I have no fondness for Italian pop, though truth be told, I have no particular fondness for French pop either (though it's come a long way since the 80's). I am sure that there are good Italian rock bands out there, but I think it would take more time than I'd like to find it. (For French music, I know a decent music store in Paris, and more importantly, I can get recommendations from my Parisian friend Graziella.)

In any event, this is a long wind up to saying that I bought one CD in Italy, and the music isn't even Italian. It's Gypsy music — or more properly, Roma music. I was in Piazza Santa Croce, and a couple of men were playing music, so I sat a little and listened. One man played a double bass, and the other a very large dulcimer. Dulcimer playing is impressive to watch, because it's done with two little hammers on a sea of strings; it's rather like a doing away with the piano keyboard, opening the lid, and hitting the strings directly. One wonders how they hit the right notes, while playing so quickly, though perhaps it's no harder than piano. In any event, I was inspired to buy a CD. Two were available — one of international classics ("La Vie en Rose", "Volare", etc.), and the other of Roma music. The group, and the CD, are awkwardly named Gruppo Romm Dracula's. The CD features dulcimer and bass, plus accordion and violin. I chose a track featuring virtuoso dulcimer and some accordion, though no violin. As you might expect, it's a great up-tempo number (from a CD of great up-tempo numbers). There's always a risk to buying a CD off the street; what if it's not good? What if you never listen to it? It's not returnable. In any event, in this case I'm happy with my choice.

I don't really know enough to write intelligently about Wesley Willis, but he was really a unique case. He was a street musician and street person in Chicago (he died a few years ago); a mentally ill man whose raw, quirky music somehow grabbed the attention of the punk scene. "I'm Sorry that I Got Fat" features a real backing band with funky bass and syncopated, punkish drumming. The theme? It's all about how Willis gained weight while eating too many hamburgers. "I'm sorry that I got fat | I'm sorry that I got fat | I'm sorry that I got fat | I will try to slim down." For all the quirkiness of the lyrics, though, Willis seems to be completely earnest — he's odd by nature, and it's not a clever pose.

Sometimes I think I don't play enough Laurie Anderson. I started today's track, "Born, Never Asked," and got a call from regular caller Pete thanking me for the selection, and I told him I thought maybe I didn't play her enough. Then I got another call (just after my shift ended, while I was refiling CDs) from a listener requesting "more Laurie Anderson!" So I guess some people agree with me, and I think I'll try to fit in a track a week for a while. (I could easily play a track a week for a year without repeating, and play a good track every time.) Anderson has been a favorite of mine since I discovered her in roughly the mid-80's. "Born, Never Asked" is an early track that, instead of having sung or spoken-sung lyrics, begins with a short poem that is followed by a trance-like rhythmic instrumental. It's not a really standout track; it's the sort of rich track you find while digging deeper into an album. Laurie Anderson has a lot of tracks like that.

artist	song	album	label
The Cocteau Twins	Carolyn's Fingers	Blue Bell Knoll	4AD
The Smiths	Handsome Devil	Hatful of Hollow	Sire
The Super Furry Animals	Ysbeidiau Heulog	Mwng	Rhapsody
*Siouxsie	Loveless	Mantaray	Decca
*Miss Alex White & the Red Orchestra	Future Talk	Space & Time	In the Red
Wesley Willis	I'm Sorry that I Got Fat	Greatest Hits	Alternative Tentacles
Hugh Reed and the Velvet Underpants	Car Nicked	Take a Walk on the Clydeside	self-released
*Devendra Banhart	Tonada Yanomamista	Smokey Rolls down Thunder Mountain	XL
*Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings	When the Other Foot Drops, Uncle	100 Days 100 Nights	Daptone
The Smoking Popes	Stormy Weather	The Party's Over	Double Zero
The Judybats	Wasting Time	Pain Makes You Beautiful	Sire
David Bowie	V-2 Schneider	Heroes	Virgin
Tanya Donelly	Landspeed Song	Lovesongs for Underdogs	Reprise
Ben Folds Five	Smoke	Whatever and Ever Amen	Epic
*The Sadies	Anna Leigh	New Season	Yep Roc
Tom Waits	The Heart of Saturday Night	The Heart of Saturday Night	Asylum
The Mountain Goats	Sinaloan Milk Snake Song	Zopilote Machine	3 Beads of Sweat
Rufus Wainwright	Little Sister	Want Two	Geffen
*Beirut	bonus track, #12	The Flying Club Cup	Ba Da Bing!
*The Go! Team	I Never Needed It Now So Much	Proof of Youth	Sub Pop
Le Tigre	Viz	The Island	Universal/Strummer
Gruppo Romm Dracula's	Samba Dracula's	Gruppo Romm Dracula's	Romm
*Black Francis	Your Mouth into Mine	Bluefinger	Cooking Vinyl
Troubled Hubble	Nancy	Penturbia	Latest Flame Records
Os Mutantes	Não vá se perder por aí	Mutantes	Polydor
*Patrick Watson	The Great Escape	Close to Paradise	Secret City
Andrew Bird	Measuring Cups	The Mysterious Production of Eggs	Righteous Babe
Laurie Anderson	Born Never Asked	Talk Normal (Anthology)	Rhino
*Tunng	Hands	Good Arrows	Thrill Jockey

Labels: music, playlists

posted by Tony at 12:20 PM | 2 comments

Milan Day 3? New York? What about Chicago?

Homeward bound! Ha! Not so much.

We grabbed a taxi to the airport rather than trying to figure out how to take the bus, and got there in plenty of time to discover that our flight had been cancelled. What? Yes, there was a sciopero, which is a useful term to learn: a strike.

It was scheduled for something like 10am to 3pm, and so our flight was cancelled. They would have to put us on a much later flight out of Milan, and would not be able to get us to Chicago tonight. "We can get you to New York, and you can fly to Chicago in the morning." "New York?! I have to fly to New York tomorrow!"

So the solution that seemed most logical was indeed to fly to New York, where we'd spend a night together; then Eric would fly to Chicago in the morning, and I'd begin my business trip a day early. I would need to have my clothing laundered, since not only was I out of socks and underwear, but also everything smelled musty, even things I hadn't worn — but I figured I could expense laundry. I'd also have to have someone in Chicago send my computer, overnight, to New York.

I would need a shirt to wear the next day (I had bought new pants, which were clean, but needed a shirt). Also, we'd need lunch, and with a delay so long there was no reason to stay at the airport. So we checked our bags at the left-luggage room and headed to the bus. (The bus seemed easy from the airport — there was only one bus, and so we wouldn't be getting on the wrong one.) Just before leaving, we saw the strike begin, with chanting, yelling workers marching out into the airport lobby. I know I should be sympathetic to labor concerns, but I couldn't help but think, you people just fucked up two days of my life and I'm not inclined to be sympathetic.

Anyway, we went into town. First stop: shopping. I found a shirt I liked at Benetton, but it was the last one in my size, and missing a button. We asked for help, but it was apparently the last in the whole city. At €50, some $70, I wasn't going to buy a shirt missing a button, even though it was a top button I'd never button, and an extra was provided anyway. So we stopped in Celio, where I bough a nice blue striped shirt. So there you have it: I stopped in the Italian fashion capital and bought French clothing. Ah, me.

We had lunch in a street café next to yesterday's pizzeria — we didn't have a guidebook, and didn't have time to figure out something that would be really yummy. The meal was lackluster, and a little sad for our last meal in Italy. Oh well.

The flights, once we were on them, were uneventful. Rather than an American flight, we were booked on British Air (since they were the ones whose original flight had been cancelled, and who rebooked us). Unfortunately, this means we don't get credit for all the miles we flew, since the arrangement between AA and BA is that you don't get credit for flights between the UK to the US. But the nice things was the BA in flight entertainment, which had been upgraded since our last BA flight: you get a personal in-seat video, and you can start and stop the videos at will. This means you don't have everyone piling into the bathroom at once when the movies end. It also means you can select (from their library) something good that you want to watch, rather than whatever crap they show everyone. So I watched The Ice Storm an Ang Lee film from about 10 years ago that I've always meant to watch. It was really good — very well acted.

Since I went straight from Italy to New York, I won't be able to create a Finn and Charlie cartoon till I'm back in Chicago. I arrive Thursday night, but I have my radio show Friday morning, so I won't really be able to sit down at my drawing board till Friday night our Saturday. I've drawn a little talking-head cartoon to explain the situation; I should be able to scan it at the office and post it tomorrow.

Labels: italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Milan Day 2

The last day! We woke up, you know, at a fairly reasonable time. Early enough to get our breakfast, which was included with the room price. It was the best hotel breakfast so far. #1: the coffee was good. Well, mine, a cappuccino, was good. Eric's was just coffee (usually if you order caffè, you get espresso, but this was just regular coffee), and it was just OK. But there was mortadella and salami and yogurt and bread, etc. etc. (There was also something that purported to be juice, but tasted more like children's aspirin; not good.)

The we hit the streets, to wander wander wander. No specific plans. We had already seen inside the Duomo, and had not managed to score tickets to see the last supper, and didn't feel there were any more “must see” items that we wanted to see. So we wandered. It was nice. We went up a pedestrianized street that had along it a special exhibit of photos from National Geographic (always amazing). We shopped at Celio (a French store, yes, but with an Italian name, and more importantly, with a bunch of stuff on sale), where I bought some pants. We wandered through the park behind the ducal palace. We went back to the pedestrianized street and had lunch.

Lunch was pizza, at Ristorante Pizzeria Castello. When I was in Milan 20 years ago, I remember eating a lot of pizza, so this felt appropriate. I also remember that, like this restaurant, there would always be some 30-40 pizza options, all named, and no “build your own” pizzas as we have in the US. So today I had a “capricciosa” (artichokes, mushrooms, olives, and capers), and Eric had a “diavola” (spicy salami and two other spicy meats). They were both quite good. (We had had a capricciosa in Siena, but with ham and without capers. I liked it better with capers, Eric liked it better without.)

And then more wandering. Really, there's very little to report about it. I thought I might run into the high school I went to for 2½ weeks 20 years ago, but I didn't. I was unwilling to really look for it, because that could have been a really pointless exercise of wandering in circles. And if I'd found it, what then?

Back to the hotel to pack, and then off to the restaurant for dinner. We took a streetcar part of the way there (maybe cutting a mile out of the trip). The restaurant was the one I'd reserved last night: Al Pont de Ferr. Definitely worth the return trip to the canal district. Al Pont de Ferr specializes in new interpretations of traditional Milanese cuisine (hence the name, which I take to mean "at the iron bridge" in Milanese dialect).

In addition to our orders, we got various amuse-bouche. First, a shot glass, containing caviar (probably salmon), grapefruit, and a mussel, seasoned with Campari, and covered with a creamy foam (maybe a combination of milk and egg white — too light to be whipped cream, but definitely dairy). That was fantastic. Then, a Chinese-style soup spoon with a single “ravioli”, made of strips of melon wrapped around goat cheese, with a couple of little pieces of duck speck; also fantastic. With that came a little spiral roll flavored with saffron, which was good, but not as good as the others.

My primo was a sort of ravioli called fagottini, stuffed with cinta di Siena, a pork or boar product whose exact translation I can't recall, and served with sauteed baby turnip greens and hazelnuts. That was fabulous. Eric had something from their “come 20 ani fa” ("like 20 years ago") section of the menu, presumably listing things they had on the menu 20 years ago (ironically, when I was here last, though not at this restaurant); he had spaghettoni with a tomato and basil sauce, and it was good but not exciting. My secondo was a filetto de cernia (some sort of fish) with a beet puree, a gorgonzola sauce, and some sort of green; it was also really good. Eric had musetto di maiale (two lovely braised pieced of pork) with a celeriac puree, and some sort of hazelnut sauce (possibly a cream of wheat with hazelnut), steamed artichokes, and sliced fried artichokes. Delicious!

For wine we had a Rossoros di Montepulciano.

The portions were small enough to think about dessert, and the dessert menu was appealing (so far on the trip, desserts have been easy to skip). So we shared a serving of apple cake — two big chunks of cooked apple with a little extremely tasty cake in the middle, with some vanilla gelato. This was accompanied separately by a ginger crema catalana (called a catalogna, I think) served in little cube-shaped dishes. Eric asked for a glass of the recommended dessert wine to accompany it — a Moscato — and the hostess insisted that we should have one each. The wine was really lovely; sweet but not syrupy, and slightly fizzy, with a nice full-bodied taste.

After that we had coffee and split. We found a streetcar line that would take us from the canals all the way around to the hotel, so we took that. The trip, door to door, took about 40 minutes, rather than last night's hour.

Now, to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow, we have a long day, and when I get back to Chicago I have to draw Finn and Charlie and pack for a business trip. *SIGH* Into the fire with me. Vacation time is (almost) over.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Parma and Milan day 1

Woke up and dragged ourselves out of bed. Here's a problem with being on vacation: you want to relax and therefore sleep, but you want to get up and see things. I try to balance seeing things with sleeping, and the result is I get about as much sleep on vacation as I do at home, maybe ½ hour more per night.

Anyway, we walked through Parma again and stopped for coffee. We then went off in search of Parmesan cheese to buy, which we found at a store which may or may not have been the same one where we bought it last time. We bought a chunk of 24-month-aged cheese and had it shrink-wrapped.

There was a big market in the streets nearby — centered on Verdi, which is one block over from the main street we've been walking on most of the time. It's like a provincial market, meaning that it's largely clothing, with a little food, too. The clothing is nothing special, but I looked at socks, because somehow I seem to be two pairs of socks short for this trip. I didn't buy anything.

We checkout of our hotel and hit the highway, and were making good time. We probably could have made it to Milan in time to have lunch there, but we knew we'd want to check into our hotel and then return the car, and it would be easier to do if we weren't thinking about lunch at the same time.

We considered stopping at an AutoGrill, the highway restaurant chain — some of which are restaurants, and some of which are snack bars — but it seemed more reasonable to try to find a place to eat in a town along the way. And of course, there are towns along the way, but they are generally ignored by guide books, and we didn't know what we might find.

But on a whim I pulled off for a town called Casalpusterlino or something like that, on the grounds that we could go through it to Cremona, a town that was actually listed in our guidebook, but wasn't too close to the highway. Then I thought, oh, let's just eat here, the town has a really amusing name. We followed signs to a restaurant that advertised here and there, and found it to be in a sort of suburban development, and decided to pass and look for something in the center of town, instead. We hit the center of town, and parked, and found no restaurants at all. So we made our way back toward the first restaurant, and then got distracted by another place that advertised, and thought, let's go there. We never did find it. Just on the other side of the highway exit was a tiny down called Ospedetta Lidogiana (Lidogiana referring to the fact that we were in Lido province). We drove down the main street, past a restaurant that seemed closed. The street dead-ended at a sort of estate, and we turned around and said, fuck it, let's get back on the highway and go to the AutoGrill.

I was curious about how the experience would be at the AutoGrill. Eric and I ate at a French rest-stop restaurant once, and it was nothing to repeat. In Spain, on the other hand, they tend to have very good sandwiches. However, a few miles before pulling off the highway, we had passed an AutoGrill restaurant, meaning that the next one would probably be a snack bar, which is was.

The confusing thing about these snack bars is that you pay first, at the the cashier, and then go over to the bar with your receipt and order your food. It feels ass-backwards, and there are no signs telling you what to do. Anyway, Eric had a “baguetto”, which was a ham. goat cheese, and sundried tomatoes. Mine was a “dolomito”, with speck and fontina. Both were really very good.

After some coffee, we hit the road again. We had no trouble following the directions we'd gotten to the hotel (except for Google Maps trying to send us down a one-way street, but we figured itout anyway). The hotel is really quite nice. We checked in an unpacked everything, so it could be repacked logically tomorrow night.

Then we drove the few short blocks to the train station, to drop off the car... well, we needed to fill up the tank, so we looked around for a gas station (not easy to find, actually), and then looked for the car rental place. And looked. And looked. Then I pulled over and sent Eric to to look for the office in the train station, and he couldn't find anything. I was expecting that (as is usually the case) we were to drop the car off in a parking garage, in a marked space; I found other rental agencies listed on garages in the area, but not ours. Finally I called for instructions, and what he told me didn't make sense. “Past the taxis there is a blue barrier, and past that there is a parking.” (“A parking” is a phrase you hear foreigners say a lot in English, though it is of course not proper English. Typically it means a parking lot or garage.) I didn't see anything that I'd call a blue barrier after the taxis (apparently looking in the wrong direction, though I wouldn't really call what he was talking about a “blue barrier”, more like blue walls around a construction site), and I couldn't find a “parking”. I drove and drove; all in all it took an hour. We called a total of three times, though he only answered twice. We had to finally pull over near the front and go in looking again... this time we found him. His instructions still didn't make any sense, and finally when he had another colleague with him, he sent to colleague out to show me what to do. The “parking” he was referring to was a loading zone that was clearly marked “no parking”. I said to the guy. “Well that's why I couldn't find it. It says no parking!”

The whole affair left me kind of steamed, but I was over it after a couple of blocks of walking.

Milan is really quite big; bigger than it looks on the map. It was a pretty good long walk into the center, to the Galleria Vittoria Emmanuele and the Duomo. The Duomo is under restoration, and so you can't see it all, but what you can see in gorgeous. The inside is quite beautiful, too. There were actually services going on; it was odd that they still let tourists in during that, but on the other hand the singing added to the ambiance nicely.

After the Duomo, we sat in a cafe in the Galleria and had some prosecco. It was lovely. The prices were, let's say, premium. Rather like having a glass of champagne at the Rainbow Room: it's not the champagne you are paying for.

We then headed down Via Torino and Via della Porta Ticinese toward the canal district for dinner. Though we though reservations would be a good idea for a Saturday night, our chosen restaurant did not have a phone number in the guide book, usually meaning no reservation is needed. This didn't turn out to be true, so I reserved for tomorrow, and we found another place to eat.

The canal district is interesting: it's an area where three old canals come together, and it used to be entirely industrial. Now it's restaurants and nightlife, very hip. Sort of the meatpacking district with canals.

We ate at a place called L'Osteria, which is an unassuming place that features nice quality cold cuts and cheese in a variety of simple preparations. Very simple preparations, really; mostly slicing, assembling, and heating. (We were near the kitchen, or what passed for a kitchen, and could watch. The sauces were all preprepared. The polenta was from a package, and microwaved.) The insalata rustica (radicchio, fennel, pears, a medium-soft cheese, possibly taleggio, and olive oil) and piatta valdostana (cold cuts: venison salami, venison proscuitto, lardo, and another medium-soft cheese, possibly fontina) that we shared were both really great. The venison salami was fabulous; the venison prosciutto really interesting, and the lardo (which neither of us had had before) really delicious. (The lardo was not quite the transcendently exquisite experience I'd been led to believe it might be, from articles in magazines and whatnot, but it was still great. Unlike in Modena, where the term referred to a spread, here it was thinly sliced cured pork fat; in the US is sometimes sold as "white prosciutto", a somewhat bastardized term that nonetheless gives a good impression of what it is.)

Service was a bit off. The main waiter who helped us spoke English fluently, and switched freely between Italian and English with us. He joked around a lot, and was pretty funny, but when we needed something, we couldn't always find him. So it took quite a while to get coffee after dinner, and even longer to get the check. (He did apologize for the delay, and said it was mistakes, not laziness, for what that's worth. He also said it had been a hard day, but he wasn't giving up, because he was a warrior. Indicating the man behind the bar, who I suspect was his father, he said: “He'll give up first, but not me.” I don't know what he meant, but it was pretty funny nonetheless.)

After that we walked back to the hotel, through the throngs of people on the streets of the canal district and the Ticinese area, up through the Piazza del Duomo (stopping to photograph the steeple), and through the nearly empty streets to the hotel. The walk took one hour. And now it's bed time.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Modena and Parma

The bugle sounded quite early in the morning, but muffled, distant, and not unpleasant. It sounds like classical music being played in another room, which is what I woke up to for about half of my childhood.

Observation: one of the few places where you can consistently get bad coffee in Italy is at a hotel breakfast bar. The coffee sits in a big tank and is probably instant; it tastes "off" in some way. The big tank of hot milk next to it doesn't help much. Along with coffee, I had two little mortadella sandwiches, some stewed prunes, “cereal” yogurt (which is what it sounds like), and grapefruit juice. Eric had some other sort of yogurt with his prunes, a ham and cheese sandwich, and orange juice. Aside from the nigh-undrinkable coffee, it was a pretty good breakfast.

Today Modena was much livelier than yesterday afternoon. We strolled about, stopping for coffee at Caffè dell'Orlogio, recommended as possibly the best caffè in Italy. It was certainly excellent. We stopped at a store to buy some fancy aceto balsamico for ourselves. We bought it from a helpful and chatty woman (at Caffè della Fortuna) who attempted to teach us all about balsamic vinegar. (She was a hoot.)

The Modenese accent is strikingly odd: whereas the /s/ sound is slightly retroflex, giving it a hint of a /š/ sound, the /ts/ sound (written z). is pronounced /θ/, as it is in Spanish from Spain. Grathie! I didn't get to make a clear study of it, mind you. I did notice that the /dz/ of zampone was pronounced as /dð/, like dthampone. It's sort of odd, like people are lisping around us. Or like there's some hidden cache of Spaniards here.

Anyway, we headed out on the Via Emilia, one of the great ancient roads of Italy. Driving it is not that exciting, though. It's basically a road like any other. We took the Via Emilia all the way to Parma.

Our hotel in Parma is pretty swanky, though the room stinks of cigarettes. It's just outside the historic center.

Parma is sort of odd in many ways, but I like it. The riverbed is broad and shallow, and green – grass from one side to the other. It must flood in the spring or something, but there's no river there now. The center of town feels oddly disorganized, but still nice. There's a university, so there are a lot of students. The best reason to come here is for the food; it's why we came 8 years ago, and why we are back now.

We ate lunch in a simple trattoria (Trattoria da Filippo), downstairs from a pizzeria. It was the least formal place we've eaten at yet. We shared a crocheta di patate (potato croquette) first; then Eric had a ham and artichoke pizza, and I had tortelli d'erbette (ravioli stuffed with ricotta and greens, probably spinach). Both were delicious, and we left satisfied but not stuffed.

We wandered around town a bit, spending a good bit of time in the lovely ducal park. (I don't know why it is I enjoy going to public parks in foreign cities so much. Sure, they are all different, but they are still all parks. They aren't different the way food is different, for example.)

We didn't take in the standard sights — the cathedral, the baptistry — because we saw them last time, and didn't feel like it today.

Eventually we found our way back to the hotel to change before dinner. For dinner, we'd decided on a place we'd eaten at 8 years ago, Trattoria Corrieri. It looks a bit big and slick (lots of dining space), so I was concerned that it wouldn't be as good as we remembered it, but it was fantastic. I started with salumi misti, which included salami, prosciutto, mortadella, and other things. One of them, something a bit like coppa, was particularly fabulous. Next came the pasta course: tortelli di zucca for Eric, and tris di tortelli (trio of raviolis: zucca — pumpkin, erbetta — greens, and something whose exact name I've forgotten — spalla something — that's a little like a ground ham). They were fabulous, and as good a lunch was, these ravioli were better. The only failing was the lack of sage for the pumpkin ravioli. After that course, Eric had a vegetable frittata, which was good. I skipped the next course, having had the salumi, but I'd ordered a contorno of peperonata, cooked bell peppers, and they chose to bring it to me as if it were a full course. It was a little odd to eat it that way, but it was still pretty tasty. We drank a bottle of Dolcetto d'Alba and some bubbly water, plus two coffees at the end.

We paid at the door on the way out (why do they do it that way? don't know). Unlike our usual generalized bills, this receipt was fully itemized, and so we could see, after leaving, that it was an utter and complete work of fiction. Though we leaned over the owner as he entered stuff into the computer, helping him where he couldn't read the waitress's notes, he got it about 90% wrong. Tagliatelle ragù? Nope. ½ pitcher Sangiovese? Nope. We stood out by the door, checking against the menu, and concluded in the end that he'd undercharged us by €2 — not worth going in to correct. Still, it was startlingly wrong. We are sure he was reading off the right notes from the waitress, so what gives? Eh. Anyway, it was still a fabulous meal.

We thought we might buy some gelato on the way back to the hotel if we saw some that looked good, but we didn't. Parma is a great food town, but apparently not a gelato town.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Modena... and Our Anniversary

Happy 10th wedding anniversary to us!

We got up and went out for a little coffee and sandwiches before checking out. I was dreading the back-and-forth driving to get the car out of the courtyard, but it was much easier on the way out.

The route to Modena took us across the Appenines, which were just beautiful.

Modena is a modern small city, with boulevards and houses and apartment buildings. It appears to be pretty prosperous, and is a pleasant place to be. The historic center is basically Renaissance; it's a little less interesting than Siena or Florence, I think, but still charming. The feel of it is definitely more northern; piazzas are cobbled, for example. The central cathedral is very impressive. It looks good but maybe a little odd from the outside; from the inside it's amazing – tall, red brick, moody, with gold mosaics and a big gold crucifix. The inside is rather dark, and the gold things are lit up and really glow.



For lunch we went to a place known for Modenese specialties: da Enzo. I had tortelli di zucca followed by an arrosti misti (mixed roasted meats) that included pork, guinea fowl (which was like duck dark meat), and veal. Eric had something called something like passatelli in brodo: a sort of eggy spaetzle. Then, zampone — a stuffed pig's foot (actually, more like a loose strong-tasting sausage). The primi were excellent and the secondi were very good. For contorni, we ordered a green salad and grilled vegetables, to share. The vegetables came with well-aged, syrupy balsamic vinegar ("condimento", which was very nice. To drink, we had the house red. We skipped dessert, but did have coffee.

After lunch we walked around. None of the stores were open, hardly anywhere. Mysterious! It turns out, Thursday afternoon is when all the stores are closed. So it was kind of dead, rather like a Sunday afternoon.

So we walked around the boulevard, which was lovely (there's a nice path through the median). Then we went to a cafe (under an arcade in the central square) to write postcards. As we sat there, a thunder and lightning storm passed through, but we stayed dry and it stopped before we left.

Dinner was at Trattoria del Giandinetto, known for the local specialty gnocco e tigelle — two breads made from the same dough, one a deep-fried pillow (gnocco), the other a flat biscuit (tigella). I ordered it “completo” (a term I've found in Italy and Spain, and in France as complet, meaning something like "with all the fixings"), and it came with proscuitto, coppa, salami, and a couple of cooked mixed meat things; ricotta (the best I've ever had; I'm not normally a fan but this was excellent), marscapone or something similar, grated parmesan, lardo (a potted pork fat spread) made with bits of ham and rosemary, nutella (which is didn't eat) and a mermelada of balsamic vinegar, or something; plus a big dish of raw vegetables. It was a bit imposing, but basically delicious. I also ordered a contorno of wild (baby) green raddichio salad, which was great with the balsamic vinegar. Eric had tortelli di zucca (not as good as mine at lunch, but good) and then coniglio al balsamico (rabbit cooked with balsamic vinegar; also very good). Our wine was a Dolcetto d'Alba. I was overstuffed, but Eric had dessert: amaretti di modena (delicious) with vinsanto. Then, of course, coffee.

The we walked back to hotel. The hotel is a little outside the historic center, and is across from a military base. This seemed harmless, irrelevant even, until I heard the bugle. At 11:00pm and 11:15pm there were short bugle calls. Then, at 11:30, taps. What time will the bugle sound in the morning? And how loud will it be?

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Florence Day 3

We got up early (though not quite as early as we might have hoped) to be able to go to Uffizi. Even arriving early on a Wednesday in October, we waited close to 2 hours in line. The line was not long, just slow, so let that be a lesson to you: just get yourself a goddamn reservation. (Reservations were available for the next day, which I understand is not true in the summer. If we could have come back the next day, we would have.) The Uffizi is not particularly well-managed for its guests, apparently. Plus, it's such a project to get in that you can't just make a one hour visit and come back another time; it's all or nothing. (At the Louvre you can go for free for last hour of the day, which is a nice way to visit the museum if you are in Paris for a while.)

We did enjoy the Uffizi, in that overwhelming museum way. There's a lot of really beautiful stuff there.

We had been noticing around town some tour groups where everyone was wearing headsets, and the tour guides spoke into little microphones. We saw a lot of this at the Uffizi; I think it must be a rule in Florence, because I've never seen that anywhere else. It was nice, though, because it made the tour groups less obtrusive (noise-wise) — sometimes you didn't even that someone was talking till you saw their lips moving.

It was lunch time by the time we left, and we were hungry. To avoid yesterdays mad wanderings, we went straight to a place from our guidebook: the Trattoria Benvenuto. It was very good. I had carpaccio Benvenuto (the house style, which was in fact the normal style: arugula, lemon, olive oil, parmesan), followed by tortellini in brodo, which was not exquisite but very yummy. Eric had a menu, which started with taglietelle in a meat sauce, and followed with arista di maiale, a big hunk of pork with a little stuffing of garlic and rosemary, plus a mixed salad; it was also very good. Then we had coffee.

Then we went for gelato at another recommended place, called something like “festivale del gelato”. It was not as good as yesterday. This place didn't offer fiordilatte, so instead I had something called macedonia (which apparently means fruit salad) to accompany my strawberry. I had it in a giant cone for some unknown reason, which was too much. The macedonia was quite good, but the strawberry was lackluster — it was nicely not-to-sweet, but it also lacked flavor. Eric had his usual tiramisu and chocolate. The chocolate was comparable to yesterday's, but the tiramisu was not nearly as good.

After a bit of wandering, we went to the Accademia, home of Michelangelo's David. The line was a little shorter than yesterday, and we were inside in 17 minutes. The David is very impressive... each square inch is so lovingly rendered, there's so much to take in. You can stop a take in all the details of each part: calves, ankles, veins on the back of the hands. We walked very slowly, counterclockwise, around the statue. For the most part, people just stand and stare. There are other parts to the museum, and we looked at those too, but everyone knows what the main event is.

I had an urge to take a photo of David's right hand from a particular angle, but I know photographs are generally discouraged in museums. I looked around, and it seemed everyone had cameras out, and no one was saying anything. Furthermore, there were no "no-cameras" signs out, as there so often are. So I decided to go ahead and take a couple of discreet shots, with the flash turned off as usual. No problems, till I walked back to Eric and realized I'd had the camera in low-res mode (suitable for viewing on a computer, but not for printing). So I set it to hi res, went back, and took the same shot a couple more times. As the shutter clicked a second time, I heard a guard call out "Signore!" No photos allowed, apparently. Oh well. Guess I was lucky, I did get to take my photos. And for what it's worth, I was discreet and considerate.

So we left, deciding we were done with museums, probably for the rest of the trip. Well, maybe we'd go to Dante's house, we though... but by the time we got there (after much wandering, and a stop for coffee), it was closed. Oh well. We bought postcards and headed back to the hotel to change for dinner, instead.

We stopped for drinks again at the Piazza della Signoria. This time Eric had a Campari and soda, while I had the house aperitivo, which turned out to be Campari and grapefruit juice, and was remarkly tasty.

We headed across the river to Trattoria 4 Leoni for dinner. This is the place we'd reserved at yesterday, when we'd tried to eat there and found them full. IT was a very good choice: possibly our best meal on the trip. To start, we shared verdure grigliate con caprino (grilled eggplant, zucchini, and peppers with a youngish goat cheese). Lovely. Then I had risotto di gorgonzola e radicchio, which was excellent, though I couldn't find any radicchio), while Eric had fiochetti di pera al taleggio con asperagi, a truly magnificent dish of pasta stuffed with pear, served in a sauce of taleggio cheese and asparagus. Then, since we were in Florence and wanted to have local specialties, we shared a 1.2 kg (=vast) bistecca alla fiorentina. Bistecca alla fiorentina is a large thick slice of meat (a particular cut which includes, I think, a rib) that is cooked quickly on high heat, so the outside is nicely browned and caramelized, while the center is virtually raw. To do it right, the meat must be at least a certain thickness, which is why we'd gotten a piece so big — our waitress had told us that was the smallest we could get. It was delicious. The only weak note of the meal was the spinach we got to accompany it, which was overcooked and lackluster.

We ordered a really lovely Brunello di Montalcino from 2001 to have with the meal (called something like “Podere Poggioia”). Its complex bouqet had notes of violet, prune, juniper, licorice/fennel, butter, lavender, and pignoli, with egg white underneath. Tasting it, we found prune, juniper, and licorice/fennel.

After our giant bistecca we didn't really want dessert, but we decided to share cookies and vinsanto, which we followed with our now-customary coffee.

I feel that I should say something about the people at the table next to us, an odd collection of businessmen and what seemed like trophy wives (mostly American), but really there's no story there. Their conversation was stupid, and unfortunately we could understand it. The waitress took to turning and rolling her eyes at us each time she left their table. (It reminded me of how Eric and I always used to have these experiences with waitstaff, where they'd treat us more as friends than as customers.) In any event, we did not dwell on them over dinner; we had a grand old time at our little table in the corner.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:58 PM | 0 comments

Florence Day 2

We got up and had a simple breakfast at a coffee bar — coffee and little sandwiches. Then we went to visit the Duomo.

The Duomo is a crazy, elaborate space on the outside, but rather simple and elegant on the inside. Underneath the floor there's a sort of archeological museum you can visit, where you can see remains of the cathedral that predated the current Duomo, as well as various Roman ruins. It was all very interesting.

After the Duomo, we just wandered a while. We saw the line at the Uffizi, and decided it didn't look too long, and we could just do it tomorrow — when it's expected to rain.

During our wanders, we found a planter containing a 500-year old olive tree from the Middle East, transplanted in memory of the events of May 27, 1993. The message was repeated in maybe 20 languages, but nowhere did it explain what the events of May 27, 1993 were. [I've since looked it up, and it turns out to be a car bombing.]

We stopped for some more coffee, and then began a long trek to look for lunch. We weren't sure exactly what to have, but set out to find it. Along the way, we stopped in Piazza Santa Croce, where Eric used a public restroom and I sat listening to Gypsy musicians, one of whom was playing a big dulcimer. I liked it so much I bought a CD from them. Then we began looking for lunch in earnest. We found a place that looked pretty good to me, but was a bit empty, and so we kept going. We passed by a couple of other places that seemed not quite right in one way or another. (We did not want a full 3-course meal, because at this point we are tired of eating so much food.

In the end, we went back to that first place I'd liked: Osteria del Caffè d'Italia, which turned out to be recommended by our guidebook. I had a degustazione di salumi, with oil-preserved artichokes (delicious) and pickled mushrooms, followed by orrechiette con broccoli (especially good — the broccoli was perhaps a bit overcooked, but the best overcooked broccoli I've ever had). Eric had pappa al pomodoro (a tomato-and-bread soup) followed by tagliata di manzo with sauteed spinach (very tasty). And after, we had coffee.

Not having overly gorged on lunch, we were free to take in some ice cream as dessert, so we wandered over to Perchè No?, a gelateria recommended by our guidebook. Gelato is not generally bought by scoop; it's by size, but you can get multiple flavors. I had fragola (strawberry), mora (blackberry), and fiordilatte (literally "flower of milk"; by taste, it seems to be a simple sweet cream ice cream), and it was delicious. Eric had tiramisù and chocolate, also delicious.

We headed up to the Accademia, which is the museum that houses Michelangelo's David. The line to get in didn't seem too bad, but we ended up decided to do it tomorrow, and heading over to a Medici palazzo with famous frescoes, called the Palazzo Medici Riccardi. The palazzo is a grand old building, as you might imagine; it serves a museum and government building. Two things of note: a Medici-era fresco in a small chapel, which featured narrative religious imagery ("Procession of the Magi") that includes a lot of people (magi, soldiers, maidens, and other figures), many of whom were clearly contemporary portraits. (One head was clearly added in later — at first glance, it looks fine, poking up as it does between two other men; with further examination, you realize the way it overlaps with the heads around it is impossible, reminiscent of M.C. Escher.) The other thing of note was a post-Medici-era ceiling fresco called "The Apotheosis of the Medici"; it's fabulous in a way that is almost campy, it's so over-the-top. One has to assume it was a least a little tongue-in-cheek. Seated in a grand throne in the sky, dead center in the ceiling, is one of the less-attractive Medici rulers; surrounding it are vignettes of classical imagery, painted in a way that merges Renaissance ideals with Baroque softness and emotion (notable most clearly in the watery, slightly enlarged eyes, which replace the anatomic exactitude of the Renaissance with something a little closer to Bambi).

After leaving the palazzo we wandered through the market stalls around San Lorenzo on our way to see the fortezza. (No guidebooks recommend going there; we just saw it on the map and said "why not". Having now see it, I can say, give it a miss. It's a big old fort that seems to have been turned into a convention center — nice for conventioneers but boring for tourists.) On our way back through, we bought a watercolor from an artists on the street. (We liked his style: not tacky. Artists on the streets never seem to be local, it seems; this one was Moroccan.)

We hoped to visit the San Lorenzo church, but it had closed at 1pm. (Whereas the Duomo has a gorgeous exterior, with a fairly simple interior, San Lorenzo has a plain, sometimes dumpy exterior, but we are told the inside is quite ornate. We didn't see it, though.)

We ended up having drinks in the Piazza della Signoria before heading across the river for dinner. Our first choice for dinner was booked; we made reservations for tomorrow and headed on to our second choice, Osteria Santo Spirito (on Piazza Santo Spirito), where the food was good but the portions way to large (one might say, American-sized — not good for a three-course meal).

Included in the coperto were two glasses of prosecco, 2 stuffed figs, and some tapenade (excellent). Then we shared a plate of salsicce di cinghiale with pecorino (I think) and sundried tomatoes (also excellent). Then I had a pappa al pomodoro (not as good as Eric's at lunch), followed by a tagliata di manzo con rucola e grana (good if not great). Eric had spaghetti aglio olio e pepperoncini (also good if not great) followed by a tagliata di petto di anatra (duck breast) con aceto balsamico (good but no comparison to French duck dishes). No dessert, god no. Coffee, though, after which we rolled ourselves back across the river to the hotel and bed.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:59 PM | 0 comments

Siena day 3 / Volterra / Florence day 1

Observation: Americans are more uptight than Italians; this is a blessing when you're driving.

We got up and had the hotel breakfast, which turns out to be included in the room fee. The breakfast room was down the hall, turn left, down the hall, turn left, down the hall, left, right, and there you are. It had two brick vaults in it and was rather cozy. It was a pretty full breakfast buffet, except no meats or cheeses. There was bread, breakfast cereal, yogurt, orange and tangerine juices, assorted goodies, plus hot milk, coffee, and tea. The coffee was not great. Still, it was good to eat.

We packed up our stuff and left our bags in the luggage room as we went to shop a little more. The hat shop was not open, but we did stop at a linens-and-olive-wood shop (where the linens were signed “Bertozzi”), and bought some printed linens, and we stopped at a print shop we'd seen and bought ourselves an etching of a Fiat 500 (a portrait, really).

The we picked up our bags and headed out of town. We thought it would be nice to stop somewhere along the way, and we decided to visit Volterra. It sounded appealing and new, which it was. It's also a bit remote, requiring a lot of driving along windy roads through hills. The ride made me a bit carsick, but eventually we got there and stowed the car in a pay garage (free lots were full).

Volterra sits atop a high hill among high hills. The city is surrounded by a medieval wall, which is in turn surrounded by an ancient Etruscan art. The views are spectacular.

Lunch was at a restaurant called Don Beta; I had tortello de ricotta e spinaci in a boar sauce, followed by cinghiale alla maremmana, boar chunks stewed with olives. The tortelli were nothing special, but the boar alla maremmana was delicious. As a side salad I had the green salad, which was curly endive, chopped, served with a very good extra virgin olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and salt and pepper. The bitter endive was an excellent counterpoint to the vinegar. Eric has a degustazione di pecorino, about 7 kinds of ewe's milk cheese, served with mostarda – in this case, three little sauce boats, one of honey, one of a sort of pepper jelly, and one of a sort of balsamic vinegar jelly. The balsamic vinegar mostarda was the best, and the cheese were nearly all lovely. His second dish was papardelle in a boar sauce, and it was also very good. He had an arugula salad to go with it. We had a bottle of house red, which featured a caricature of the proprietor being cooked on a spit.

After lunch we wandered a bit and took in the sights. It's a charming town, if perhaps over-touristed.

After walking, we had some gelato and went on our way. (There was some drama on the way out; we stopped at the cashier to pay, and he told us, €3. But when our car reached the checkout machine, the readout said “tempo scaduto”, and to go back to the cashier. He came out, took our card and went in, and said we'd paid the wrong amount; it was €6. So we paid another 3 and went on our way. But in the meantime we held up traffic.)

Getting to Florence after that was easy, but getting around Florence was not. We took a wrong turn (my fault) on the way in, and ended up on the wrong side of town. Central Florence is entirely pedestrianized, and the best thing to do is go around it; but without a large enough map, we didn't know how to do that. We floundered here and there for a while and eventually ended up leaving the way we came, taking the correct turn, following our twisty-turny instructions from Google Maps, and making it to our hotel – at which point we had to figure out where to park. (The hotel has parking.) Eric ran in to ask, while I waited outside (pulling over a few yards ahead to allow other cars to pass). The instructions on how to get around the block were at least as convoluted as Google's, but we made it. Then we had to turn the car down a narrow passage off a narrow street, which involved shimmying the car back and forth in a slow rotation, till we could make it down the passage. This would have been easier if the pedestrians had stopped, instead of continuing to walk around the car, as they did until there was really no space for a person to pass.

Pulling through the archway, we drove into a lovely courtyard (which our room looks onto), and parked near a very large tree.

The hotel is charming and whimsical, with stenciled vines around the washstand, and a detail of two bored-looking cherubs (from a famous painting by Rafael) overlooking the bed.

We headed out to see the town. Central Florence is not medieval, unlike Siena or Volterra. I don't know the exact history, but the central area was clearly remade. (Was there an earthquake, like in Lisbon? Or was the land seized by imminent domain, as in Paris?) The avenues are fairly broad (though pedestrianized), the streets largely straight and at right angles to each other, the buildings (aside from special ones like the Uffizi) are rather standardized. The tourist quality of the city is (as always) a bit depressing – too clean, too much high-end shopping – but it is clearly also a real city where real people live and work. We arrived too late today for the passagiata; if I see that tomorrow, this place will seem more real.

Supper took a while to find, as we went past a recommended place, kept walking, went in a wide circuit, and ended up at the same place. The problem was we wanted something light, and didn't want to be obligated to have a full meal. Other options in town tend to be pizzerias and self-service snack bars. The place we went to (Cantinetta dei Verrazzano) had a self-service counter, but also had a wine-bar attached, with table service. It's owned by the Chianti house of Verrazzano, so they only serve their own wine. We shared a bottle of chianti, and Eric had some bresaola with arugula and lemon zest, and I had an open-faced sandwich of sopressata with lemon zest and pepper. Apparently in Florence sopressata is something close to head cheese; disturbing but pretty tasty. The bresaola was lovely as it always is. That didn't feel like quite enough food, so we let him bring us an assortment of stuffed focaccia, which were very tasty. It was also just a little too much food, which wasn't too surprising once we realized he'd brought us not two but four servings of it. The wine was brought to the table with great ceremony, and was good but not all that special.

Our waiter was funny. His English was excellent; almost completely unaccented. It turned out (the table behind asked) he's half American – born and raised in Florence, but he spent his summers in Massachusetts (his grandmother teaches at Smith, he said, but then he said he spent his time around Harvard). He was a bit overly jocular, frankly – I do like to be left alone – but still it was fun. I'd thought he must have spent some time in the US, but I also thought he must have been surrounded by Italians; his accent is virtually perfect, but his idiom is off: he frequently used translated Italian phrases or cognates in place of a more standard term. The grapes are “elevated” rather than “raised”, plus another better example that escapes me now. (It was something where the meaning was clear, but it was not an English idiom.)

Then, though it was not late, we headed back to the hotel (albeit by a meandering route). We are both tired.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 4:23 PM | 0 comments

Siena day 2

We sleep nearly 12 hours, and are awakened by the maid, knocking on the door. I grunt. She explains some in Italian, pauses, and then says “cleaning”. I muster, “adesso, no.” But we get up. Time's a-wastin'.

We head out and end up in a caffè in the Campo called Osteria del Bigelli. Caffè doppio for Eric, cappuccino for me; then, when we can get the waitress's attention, we get some menus and order lunch. Two items to share: involtini di melanzane, which are slices of eggplant wrapped around sausage and broiled – not, as the waitress told us, raw sausage, but certainly very pink; followed by a pizza capricciosa, which had artichoke, ham, mushroom, and olives. The pizza was good, and the involtini were very good.

We wander down to the market square (though it is not market day). The view down the ravine is lovely. Then we head down one of the ridges (Siena is built on five), till we get to La Basilica de Nostra Signora dei Servi, a smallish romanesque basilica. It's pretty and very light (for a romanesque church). It also features the mummified corpse of saint, which fortunately you cannot get to close to.

We wander back, and meander here and there, looking for shopping. Everything is closed for lunch till 4, but we have some ice cream. When the stores are open again, we go to a bookstore. The hat store we'd like to visit does not open. We head out toward the fortezza.

On the way, we visit Santa Caterina. It's a simpler (but large) church, with a trussed wooden ceiling. It's also clearly been through troubles – it has nearly no original windows, and the frescoes are mostly gone. A sign confirms it: two fires, several years of military occupation, and one earthquake. In one opulent nook is a shrine to St. Catherine of Siena. Her dried, severed head sits in a reliquary, facing us. She looks remarkably good, for a dried, severed head. She wears a clean wimple like a nun.

Onward toward the fortezza, where we walk the ramparts. I take some good photos before we return to the hotel room. (On the way back, we stop at a market and buy honey.)

We go to the campo for a glass of wine, before heading to dinner. It is passagiata time, but less crowded than on Saturday.

Dinner is at L'Osteria del Ghibellino. We begin by sharing an excellent bruschetta with tomato and mozzerella. (It's the quality of the olive oil that makes it so very good.) For pasta, I have tagliatelle con tartufo nero, which is delicious, but with perhaps a bit too much truffle. Eric has pici in a dish very similar to mine from last night. Eric's main course is a stinco del maiale, a slow-cooked pork shin. It's delicious, but could have used another couple of hours, and comes served with potatoes, which are overkill after a plate of pasta. I have tagliata del Ghibellino, strips of veal seared and served rare with olive oil, toasted garlic, and rosemary; it is a truly superior dish, and I'm glad I ordered it. As a side I get a green salad, which is arugula and nothing more. I order a dessert of almond and chocolate torta; it seems in fact that the torta is just almond flavored, but that the sauce is white chocolate. In any case, it's lovely, and Eric eats some too.

Then we return to the hotel for bed.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 11:00 PM | 0 comments

Arrival in Italy (Siena)

I've been sick, and I got up early to do a radio show, so it's not the best time to leave town, but I'm excited for the trip! The flight starts uneventfully, but then they announce that due to a medical situation, we'll be landing a NY JFK airport. We end up waiting a long time as they remove the sick man and his wife; locate and remove their luggage; check the plane over and refuel; get a new flight plan; get the checklist and sign off. The last part takes the longest; overall, we've been set back 4 hours. We will miss our connection; they tell us they'll give us new flight information when we land, but we've already called the airline and made arrangements to get on a different flight, this one to Florence instead of Bologna. We arrange to pick up our car in Florence, too. So we don't have to worry about that. We sleep fitfully in our cramped coach seats, me with the aid of Dramamine. All night my sinuses drain alarmingly, and I go through an entire package of kleenex.

In Brussels, we have a beer, a sandwich, and a selection of cheese, salami, pickles, and olives, in a beer café in the airport. It's pretty good. We find no place for a nice fresh Belgian waffle, so we buy one wrapped in plastic, which is pretty good but not great. The plane is remarkably comfortable, and we sleep soundly, almost interrupted from wheels-up to wheels-down.

Our car is a little Opel Corsa, much like any other European subcompact. We drive to Siena, where we spend a lot of time trying to figure out how to get to the free parking. Eventually, we end up near the free parking, but in a pay lot (at the fortezza). Whatever. We get out and go to our hotel.

The hotel room is small but clean, and with a 15' ceiling. There is a ceiling fan, hanging not from the ceiling but rather a cantilever hanging off the wall, 3' from the ceiling.

We are tired, but functional. It is the high time of the Saturday afternoon passagiata and the streets are thronging with people. Sienese men do have fun with their facial hair (no I don't have pictures of this). We wander about, visiting the Piazza del Campo and pointing out things we saw last we were here, in 1999. Eventually we settle on dinner at a recommended restaurant: Osteria Castelvecchio.

It's early, by Italian standards, so all the other patrons are also American. This worries me at first, but all the later patrons are Italian.

We share a serving of prosciutto con melone to start with, and then I have the pici in a traditional sauce made with wild boar, and Eric had cavatappi made with cacao in a Gorgonzola cream sauce, with walnuts. My food is excellent, Eric's is extraordinary. As a main dish, he has rabbit with cipolline, which is good, and I have galletto (young rooster), grilled and served with a sort of mixed salad, which is very good. We drink Vernaccia di San Gimignano, which is very nice. We skip desert and, god forbid, coffee. My eyes are crossing. It's bed time.

By the time we get to bed, it's 10:25. It doesn't take long to get to sleep.

Labels: food, italy, journal, personal

posted by Tony at 10:25 PM | 0 comments

I couldn't tell if it was Jersey or Sierra Leone - 10/12/07 Show

No notes this week... hopping on a plane to Italy this afternoon.

*: new stuff
(r): requests

artist	song	album	label
Red Leo and the Pharmacists	The Ballad of the Sin Eater	Hearts of Oak	Lookout!
Frank Zappa	St. Alphonso's Pancacke Breakfast	Zappa Picks: Larry LaLonde of Primus	Ryko
*PJ Harvey	When under Ether	White Chalk	Island
Jimmy Somerville	From This Moment On	Red Hot + Blue	Chrysalis
Van Morrison	The Way Young Lovers Do	Astral Weeks	Warner Brothers
The Beautiful South	'Til You Can't Tuck It In	Paint It Red	Ark21
*The Go! Team	Universal Speech	Proof of Youth	Sub Pop
Martha and the Muffins	Several Style of Blonde Girls Dancing	Danseparc	One Way
*Simian Mobile Disco	It's the Beat	Attack Decay Sustain Release	Interscope
*Sharon Jones & the Dap Kings	Let Them Knock	100 Days, 100 Nights	Daptone
(r)Dengue Fever	Tip My Canoe	Escape from Dragon House	M80
Quasar Wut-Wut	Thankful Hank and the Guzzard	Taro Sound	Glorious Noise
The Eternals	The Mix is So Bizarre	Heavy International	Aesthetics
*Broken Social Scene presents Kevin Drew	Broke Me Up	Spirit If...	Arts & Crafts
Nick Drake	Strange Meeting II	Time of No Reply	Hannibal
Meryn Cadell	Flight Attendant	Angel Food for Thought	Bongo Beat
Savath and Savalas	Ya Verdad	Golden Pollen	Anti-
*Thurston Moore	Silver > Blue	Trees Outside the Academy	Ecstatic Peace
*Devendra Banhart	The Other Woman	Smokey Rolls down Thunder Mountain	XL
Mavis Staples	I'll Be Rested	We'll Never Turn Back	Anti-
*Bettye LaVette	I Still Want to Be Your Baby (Take Me Like I Am)	The Scene and the Grime	Anti-
TheB-52's	Nip It in the Bud	Mesopotamia	Reprise
The Polyphonic Spree	Get Up and Go	The Fragile Army	TVT
Zerostars	Like the Daylights	self-released
*The Fiery Furnaces	Ex-Guru	Widow City	Thrill Jockey
Oneida	Summerland	Nice. Splittin' Peaches	Ace Fu
Mary Weiss	Don't Come Back	Dangerous Game	Norton
Black Francis	Captain Pasty	Bluefinger	Cooking Vinyl

Labels: playlists

posted by Tony at 8:00 AM | 0 comments

Predictable Charlie?

Another fun-packed Finn and Charlie cartoon!

I think I'm getting better at drawing...

Labels: comic

posted by Tony at 10:38 PM | 5 comments

A Benny Shaved is a Benny Urned

The punchline to an old joke I think I heard on the Muppet Show as a child. Only slightly related to this week's Finn and Charlie, coming at you ever-so-slightly early.

[edit]Now I remember: it wasn't the Muppet Show, I'm pretty sure it was the Jackie Gleason show. Yes, I went through a phase of watching the Jackie Gleason show on PBS. Kind of inexplicable.[/edit]

Labels: comic

posted by Tony at 9:52 PM | 0 comments