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.
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!!
We’d been at the Barcelona Cathedral, the old one, not the Gaudi one that’s never finished, extraordinary gothic architecture graced with gargoyles and an adjacent museum with jewel encrusted crosses, too many carats to count. The cathedral is the resting place of Santa Eulalia. Almost like a film credit, she is the co-patron saint of Barcelona and the cathedral is guarded by thirteen white geese as she was thirteen when she died. (I know this is true because I counted them.)
After growing up in Western Massachusetts, it didn’t take me long to
become spoiled living in Los Angeles. Not only do we constantly have
fresh produce from around the world, but delicacies from every nation
are well-represented. Mexican food didn’t reach my hometown until I
was in college and even then it was either Chi-Chi’s or Taco Bell,
neither of which is very authentic or culinary genius. Regardless of
quality, the food was something completely new and I was immediately
hooked on guacamole, chips, salsa and greasy crispy tacos. Once I
landed here – and got a taste of the real thing – there was no
stopping my cravings for all things “South of the Border.“ L.A. is the
crossroads of the world when it comes to food and I never realized how
lucky I was to live here until I went to Europe for a month.
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.