Italy

“You know, I once saw an American TV show where someone was eating a fried Oreo.” This was the phrase that poured out my host in Torino’s mouth as we discussed the difference of food in each culture. I couldn’t help but laugh. Instantly, an image of Oreos, fries, chocolate, and dough being deep-fried at a county fair entered my mind. ‘In America, we can fry anything…even cheesesteaks,’ I thought.

“America, home of the fried,” I said out loud to my host.

As someone who was always on the bigger side, growing up, I made a vow two and a half years ago to give up deep fried foods. My only exception to the rule was tortilla chips. However, for two and a half years, fries and funnel cake never graced a single plate placed in front of me.

But my fast of fried food recently came to an end in Milan, Italy as I stepped into Luini, a famous shop in the heart of the city. The shop, recommended to me by the few people I knew to have spent extended amounts of time in Milan, is home to the very special panzerotti—fried pizza dough filled with deliciousness.

I just spent my first night in Rome and wanted to share my dinner from last night. It was at Al Duello, a place a friend recommended. It was absolutely incredible.

It's a cute little place off a random side street between the Pantheon and Piazza Navona. It wasn't too busy and they were super sweet with me. Not only did they bring me a free glass of champagne, but a free desert, as well. I had sadly decided I couldn't quite muster eating it after the other three delicious courses; however, they insisted. Man, whatever it was it was worth shoveling into my mouth and overindulging.

It wasn't the cheapest meal, but given all I ate, how good it was and, oh yeah, two large glasses of wine, it was well worth it. I can only hope the rest of meals are this good.

I ate a perfect dish the other day and I was lucky enough to be with friends who were able to document the whole experience.

Trista and Cappy have visited us before in Umbria and they are on the A-list, as far as we’re concerned. They’re the easiest, breeziest houseguests in the business. One day, we were noodling in the fridge, trying to concoct a lunch out of various leftovers – very high-level leftovers, I may say – when Jill came up with an idea.

“Have we ever taken you guys to Pettino?” So much for leftovers. Pettino is a tiny village about ten miles (and two thousand feet of altitude) from our house. We jumped in the car and slowly made our way up the twisty hill. At around 800 meters above sea level, we started to see the striped poles on the side of the road that are used in the winter to measure the snowfall. We still had 300 meters more to climb. Pettino boasts a population of 74 inhabitants and many more sheep. The only commercial building that I know of is the small inn that houses the Trattoria Pettino. This was our lunch destination.

Normally, one encounter with an old bear would terrify a person. It would probably scare a person out of the wilderness and into solitude for an unforeseeable amount of time. It would most likely be an experience worth putting behind and never having to relive. In fact, the only person I have ever read of, other than circus acts and zoo trainers, to have ever made his life about becoming friends with old bears is Mr. Timothy Treadwell, who was deemed Grizzly Man by Mr. Werner Herzog in a 2005 documentary by the same title. Treadwell was the victim of one of the old bears he had become friends with during his life in the wilderness with them.

Recently, I survived an encounter with an Old Bear – only this one wasn’t big, fuzzy, and scary – this one was located in the center of Rome – this one was just a hidden gem crouching in a dark alley waiting for it’s prey to walk by and step inside. This one had sharp teeth that captured my friends and myself and welcomed us for one of our most wonderful dining experiences in Italy yet—this one was an old bear worth encountering.