Travel

I did it for you, dear reader. I did it all for you. I did something I vowed I would never do. Not in a million years. But there I was in Verona. City of Romeo and Juliet. City of beauty. And after seeing so many beautiful things, one does get a bit peckish. And all the guidebooks recommended the same thing: horse. It’s a specialty of the area. So when Jim and I found ourselves at the local restaurant perusing the menu, there it was, staring us in the face: smoked horse with arugala salad. There was also pasta with a donkey ragú on the menu like it was the most normal thing in the world to eat these equines. “ I guess we had better try it,” said Jim. “Really?” “Yeah. How bad can it be?” He said nonchalantly. I could sense a challenge. “OK, go ahead order it.” “Ok, I will,” he countered, adding, “and we’ll share it.” I took a large gulp of my prosecco and waited anxiously for the dish to arrive.

It’s not as though I am vegetarian or even a vegan. It’s not as though I grew up riding horses through the British countryside or fox hunting, thank God. But I suppose the prospect of eating horse is like eating dog. i.e. eating a pet. Although to be honest I’m not much of a dog person either. I prefer cats. And thankfully no one ever talks about eating cats. OK, maybe in Asia But nonetheless horses and dogs are our friends: we feed them, we take care of them and there is something about turning around, killing them and eating them that seems rather upsetting. A ‘Charlotte’s Web’ syndrome, if you will.

We had reservations for a "secret dinner" at an undisclosed location for the last 2 weeks that I sadly can't disclose to anyone. To say that I was very excited would be an understatement as I have always fantasized about what it would be like to have my own private dinner club, but that is a whole other story.

This saturday night in Maine it was very cold and clear, the sky was full of stars and just a perfect half moon guided our way as we barreled down country roads riddled with frost heaves for over an hour-heading for a small coastal "unnamed" town. We are instructed by an email sent just 2 days before to arrive at 6 sharp, but we arrived a half hour early and parked in front of the still dark location. We look at the facade of the old brick building for any sign of activity but there is none, just a soft light coming from the shuttered second floor windows. Our vehicle is one of only 3 cars parked on the whole of Main Street, every car that passes slows down and notices our presence. Do they know that we are waiting outside a underground dinner club or is it just something one does automatically when they live in a small Maine town. We feel a bit anxious – will dinner be good? Will the company be interesting?

The Oregon Coast is one of the most beautiful stretches of land I have been privileged enough to spend time exploring.  If you are an Oregon native or you are visiting this summer, don't miss some of these great local stops along the way. Have fun!!

-Stay in Astoria's renovated Hotel Elliott, a 1924 historic beauty.  Stop at the Columbian Cafe and ask chef Uriah Hulsey for his catch-of-the-day crepe.  Save room for the wild campfire salmon or the ale-steamed local clams at Baked Alaska .

-Coast Cabins  in Manzanita has the most Northwest-cool lodging on the Oregon Coast.  Rent the North Tower for its loft view and outdoor hot tub.

-Dip your toes into surf culture with Lanny at Shuler Surfboards, his Seaside store and shaping studio.

-Sip on Willamette Valley red or cool down with the Oregon berry sorbet at sleek little Yummy  in downtown Seaside.

-Stretch your legs at Hug Point, mile markers 32 and 33.  Do as the sign says.

Brian and Maria Gabriella are Americans who live in Umbria part of the year. They’re opera singers and run a travel business on the side, which affords them some great travel perks as they check out possible adventures for their clients. They recently got back from a trip to Sicily and were regaling us with stories.

“I ate pasta with eggplant and tomatoes every day for two weeks,” said Brian. “Sometimes twice a day. “If I never see another bowl of pasta with eggplant and tomatoes, that’ll be just fine.”

All I could think of was that I wanted a big bowl of pasta with eggplant and tomatoes. He got me going.

And then the universe – as it will do sometimes if you’re lucky and aware – dropped a remarkable coincidence in my lap. The next day I was out shopping for, you guessed it, eggplant and tomatoes, and there was a truck parked in our little piazza manned by three guys from Naples. The back of the truck was filled with gorgeous produce, fresh from the south – not only the veg I needed for my pasta, but crates of red and yellow peppers, nectarines and strawberries so fresh that if you didn’t eat them within ten minutes, they’d be over.