Travel

One of the finest lessons I ever learned in my life was from my grandmother, "Mamie." We were having dinner at Harry's Bar in Venice many years ago on a warm summer night in July. My parents had given me, as a graduation gift from high school, a month in Europe. I had gone through numerous brochures and found the perfect trip, 10 countries in 28 days. I was exhausted on day 22 but Mamie was quick to remind me, as I was slouched in my chair, my head nodding dangerously towards what is probably the most expensive spaghetti in the world, that most people would break their left arm to have the opportunity to have dinner on a Saturday night at Harry's Bar in Venice. I sat up straight in my chair and have always remembered her poignant words.

Lots of winters, I’ve been lucky enough to join in the migration unique to a certain subspecies of Los Angeles native where flocks of family units pick up and move five hours by oversold mechanized bird west to an abbreviated hyphen of sand in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.  But I don’t mean to sound dispassionate or cynical or something, because the nagging concerns of existential meaning¹ that the previous sentence  might appear to have summoned kind of just slink away when that first warm blanket of air wraps you up in the middle of December, when the roars of leaf-blowers and the 101 have been traded for the soft lapping of the sea, when you first pull up to the shining white sprawl of a resort where everything from the photocopied New York Times crossword puzzles waiting at breakfast to the pool waterslide helps aid in the dissolution of whatever negative thoughts might be careening around between your ears. 

Never mind that the concept of vacation as escape is turned into this sort of farce due to the feeling that all inhabitants of Southern California who travel to Hawaii during the holidays end up staying at one of three hotels within half a mile of each other on the western shore of Maui and hyper-image-conscious businesspeople/kids/vague acquaintances bump into their peers all week long, except that all the judging here goes on while everybody is half-naked.  Never mind all of that; it’s totally possible to ignore the Dark Side of this scene and just chill out.   

The temptation of chocolate draws Chocoholics and chocolate connoisseurs to Brugge, Belgium in droves. Decadent, rich chocolate shops are beyond prevalent in this well-preserved Gothic city (there are over 40). A turn at every cobblestone corner will be yet another chocolate shop discovery. Belgium is second to none in the chocolate department. If you think Swiss chocolate is supreme, then try Belgian, and your mind will be forever changed. Here are just a few suggestions to indulge your chocolate cravings.

Dumon is a well-known family owned shop. Stefaan Dumon creates exquisite chocolates daily using fresh ingredients sans additives and preservatives. (The shelf life is six weeks.) The staff will go into great detail describing their award winning, decadent, exploding-with-flavor, creamy chocolates. It's customary to find a small crowd gathered around the chocolate display case.

To indulge in one-of-a-kind concoctions, head over to The Chocolate Line near Market Square. Eighty unique varieties, such as a Buddha-shaped ginger chocolate and a white elephant saffron curry will tempt your taste buds.

Jill was done.  For three weeks I'd been force feeding her on a take-no-prisoners march through the restaurants of Italy.  I had all but nailed her feet to the floor.  And then four days in Rome – dio mio, Roma!  If you don’t eat well in Rome, you’re an idiot.    

Now she was on strike. “Forgive me, honey, but I have to go light tonight”, she said.  “Just a little grilled fish and a salad.  And no wine.”    

This last was underlined as if to indicate it should have some special meaning for me.    

“Just eat what you want, baby” I said, moving right past it.  My focus was on the menu, planning my point of attack.    

We were in Ristorante Lorenzo in the stylish seaside resort of Forte Dei Marmi, just down from Pietresanta on the Tuscan coast.  Versilia is the beautiful name Italians give to this region.   Lorenzo is not only the best restaurant in town but one of the most stylish, most satisfying in all of Italy.