This is very embarrassing. I woke up today and I was certain that today's blog would be fairly simple. I mean, the plan is simple enough. Wake up, leave Rapallo, drive halfway across the country, stop for lunch, drive across the second half to the Adriatic coast, check into a hotel, eat, sleep. No history. No sights. Not much to share. Instead of the normal forty plus pictures I would be able to make do with less than twenty, and that would include boring highway shots.
Unknown to me, Ironus, the Roman god of irony, had a different plan for me. He threw the two best meals of the trip at me in one day, forcing me to end up with nearly fifty pictures. Fortunately, you will mostly be looking at food, so that I do not have to blab on about Roman this and historical that.
To paraphrase the great film director John Huston, "Today is a day for eating."
The backside of Barbara with the boys and the Volvo we picked up in Nice. Time to drive from the Mediterranean coast to the Adriatic coast.
As Barbie has stated, not joking at all, "Going to Parma is like going to Mecca for Jeff." This is due to my fairly extreme devotion to the application of Parmesan cheese to nearly every form of food. However, this statement about Parma is semi-accurate. In reality going to Liverpool was my Mecca experience.
Parma, Italia. Parma is a working class city. This is no insult. Someone has to produce Parmigiano Reggiano and Parma Ham, better known as Prosciutto. Would you expect a city known for producing cheese and ham to not be a working city?
The drive to Parma, which took us through the incredibly beautiful Apuan Alps (Alpi Apuane) of Tuscany, gave me time to take the iPhone and google, "Best Lunch in Parma." That took me to a message board discussion on the site ChowHound, where a native from New York City who lives in Parma recommended Trattoria Corrieri.
We googled that restaurant... and...
We will soon know whether or not one can trust Parma's expat New Yorker.
You walk into Trattoria Corrieri and you see a quaint lobby with a large glass window looking into the kitchen. This woman smiled at me, then when I pressed the camera to the window she frowned. I did not mean to treat her like an animal at the zoo. I merely wanted to share with you, The Readers of The Waste, how open, clean and fresh this kitchen is.
In the United States, we have restaurants that mimic this Italiano vibe of the restaurant being a home. Here there is no fakery. You can tell that the shelves and bottles have been here for decades or more.
This man is a-slicing the Prosiutto di Parma, surrounded by legs of pork. Brings a tear to the eye.
The lovely courtyard dining area.
Sean, Lon, Barbie and I each ordered an entree, while Barbie added the first course choice of Prosciutto e Melone (but of course) while I simply ordered the starter, "Parmigiana Reggiano."
The first course. Never before have we seen or tasted fresher food than this.
Honestly, that prosciutto was simply divine. It was fresh, tender, and delicious. But the parmigiano reggiano...
I just had to take this shot. I know that there are some who look at this and think, "Whatever. It's a bowl of cheese." I suggest you right-click-open-in-new-window and look at that cheese up close.
This is, without a doubt, the best picture I have yet to take with the iPhone. The texture and sharpness of the cheese, with the softly out of focus background, is what I was hoping to get and I got it. Camera nerd gets a win.
Was I too busy geeking out over the photography to mention that this was the most perfect tasting cheese ever placed in my mouth. Maybe the most perfect tasting food? It was. Not joking. Do not judge me.
Time for the second course.
Pasta bolognese.
Pasta porcini.
Pumpkin ravioli.
Risotto parmigiana.
All four on my plate. Decadent. I will add that I expected to be blown away by the risotto and bolognese, and I was. But the pasta porcini was even better, and the pumpkin ravioli was supremely delicious. That is correct. Me, the parmesan addict, is saying that the parmesan-free pumpkin ravioli was the best dish of the second course. (Nothing surpasses simply eating the straight parmigiano reggiano of the first course.)
The only item ordered for the third course, Turkey and prosciutto di Parma.
I expected prosciutto wrapped around turkey. What I got was turkey rolled with prosciutto di Parma with a hint of parmigiano reggiano in the center.
And with that, our lunch was over. Random New Yorker who moved to Parma, thank you for sharing. If it had not been for you, we would have been lost wandering around Parma, possibly eating at a disappointing corner sandwich shop.
Downstairs, in the basement, is a whole lotta ham.
Time to get back in the car and drive until we hit the water.
You know how I keep saying that driving around Europe constantly reminds me that Europe and America are similar, not different?
Wicked similar, people.
We stopped for gas outside Rimini, where Babrie noted that we had essentially driven nine hours on one tank of diesel. The volvo S80 has an 18.5 gallon tank. A casual mathematical conversion brings me to estimate that we travelled more than 600 miles on that tank. Maybe close to 700. The word you are looking for is, "Damn."
Our arrival in Rimini, Italia, presented via signage. Americans do not often hear of Rimini, but it is the heart and home to the best known resorts of the Adriatic Riviera. The Adriatic is a warmer, smaller sea than the Mediterranean, resting between Italy and the former Yugoslavian nations.
Rimini shows itself to be a city of lovely, tree-lined streets.
When we checked in, we got a note from Michelle. We met Michelle at a Los Angeles dinner last month and found out that she would be at a job in Milan while we were visiting Italy. After a chat over dinner, Michelle decided to meet us in Rimini. The more, the merrier.
Sean & Lon will be staying in Rimini with Sean's freind Livinia, who we had met in Rome three years earlier. Livinia and her boyfriend Franco met us at the Grand Hotel Rimini, and we soon bumped into Michelle and her friend Georgia, who lives in Milan with her husband who happens to be the person Michelle is working for in Milan. Does that all hold together? It is not simple, I know. Just know that the four have become eight; Jeff & Barbie, Sean & Lon, Livinia & Franco (Rimini locals) and Michelle & Georgia (Milan-based ex-pats.)
We walked over to the beach, which is across the street from the hotel. Cameras cannot capture a scene like this. Between us and the sea is a sea of umbrellas and lounge chairs. A sea, I tell you. Unfathomable how many. There is no resort in the USA that even comes close.
We walked over to a tennis club for a drink. Guest photographer Barbara Howard took this shot of the group. I rarely comment on my own appearance, but between you and me, I am sincerely shocked by how dark my skin has already gotten. Last year on the Mediterranean I got pretty dark, but already I hardly recognize that man on the left. He must be from North Africa, I think.
Time for us to go clean up for dinner. On the way to the showers...
Last night Lon surprised Sean with these beautiful, matching rings. They are now officially stuck together like we are. And just to toot her horn, Barbie helped pick out the rings back in Los Angeles and had kept them hidden at our place for many weeks, so that Lon could prevent Sean from accidentally discovering them. Here are The Rings, being shown off in front of the Grand Hotel Rimini garden.
After keeping it pressed between tissue since its discovery, Lon takes the four leafed clover out before dinner. Now do you believe?
Walking to dinner, I share with you the front of the Grand Hotel Rimini.
Livinia and her boyfriend Franco have invited us to dinner at the nearby Club Nautica Rimini, with Franco's friend Big Mario and his wife.
Four became six, then eight, now ten.
Okay... how to prepare you for this. Mario is a member of the Club Nautica Rimini. We sat at this table and the waiters basically ran a bunch of ideas by us, and we said yes a lot, and then a torrent of food steadily overwhelmed the table. Seriously, there was little room for plates. I have never seen this much food in one place.
I cannot name all this food for you. I saw no menu. I will do my best.
Tuna carpaccio.
Swordfish carpaccio.
Assorted raw seafood.
Ummm... like, mushrooms and cheese rolled up in a flatbread.
Grilled prawns and an octopus tare-tare.
Smoked salmon.
Grilled octopus. (Everything was excellent, but this was a highlight. I am nearly comfortable saying that octopus is my favorite seafood. Never saw that one coming.)
Rice-ish, grain-ish dish.
Another highlight, prawns in aspic. (Never had anything like this before, but I could have eaten it all night. And, yes, David Scharf and Sujay Mehta know how amazed and delighted I was to be eating, "aspic.")
Franco disappeared and came back with a rose for each lady.
Grilled sole with potatoes.
Gilled prawns in rock salt. (Another serious highlight.)
Mixed seafood, lightly fried. (Used the flash here. Still not sure about whether I like using the iPhone's flash or not.)
Mixed seafood and vegetables, flash fried.
A shot of the plate where I was about to place dessert.
Dessert. There are fruit cups, custard, and a creme brulee in the center. The creme brulee was y favorite, but at this point I was ridiculously full and could not each much more.
A view of the marina from the club.
Exhausted from our three hour dinner, yes, THREE HOUR DINNER, we walked back to the hotel.
On the way back, I spotted this miniature golf course.
There you have it. I honestly do try to avoid absolutes, but this was unquestionably the most gastronomically outrageous day of my life.
Time for bed.
Dude. What a quietly amazing day!
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