tupac17616

Ah, yes. Cutting your losses. Never fun to have to do that.

MaxH certainly laid out all the details you need to know above, but I'll add my two cents. Having been to both, I'd say over time my preference between the two has become the Cafe. To me, the level of sophistication of the food (and I know people will scoff at this, as these are NOT places one goes for fussy or complicated dishes) is essentially the same in both places. It is unfortunate to be so pragmatic about it, perhaps, but sometime you just have to let your budget do the thinking for you. You certainly aren't paying extra for the technical competence of the cooks with your $65 (or $85 of $55 depending on the night) for the fixed menu in the restaurant downstairs. You are paying partially, as with all famous restaurants, for a name. For a philosophy. For something that was revolutionary back before you or I had even heard of the place. And, beneath it all, you're paying someone to shop for you. The ingredients in both the Cafe and the Dining Room are fabulous. No question about it. They have relationships with purveyors and farmers that you or I could only dream of. You will eat well at either one. Sorry to be so long-winded in my answer, but I suppose my summary would be: First time, the restaurant. Second visit, the Cafe (and lunch is so much more relaxed there than dinner). After that, frequent either (or neither) to your heart's content!

I'll gladly jump on that one. I'd agree with you that Humm's cuisine does have a bit of that "west coast" feel to it. Makes sense, considering that he earned a good share of praise for his cooking at Campton Place in San Francisco before Danny Meyer lured him over to NYC. I only managed to eat at EMP once after Humm had arrived, but the meal (in late April) was flat-out fantastic. The Vermont Farm Suckling Pig. The Scottish Salmon "Mi-Cuit". I could go on... He is undoubtedly one of the best, if not the single best, young chefs operating in NYC right now. He has singlehandedly transformed EMP into quite frankly one of the best restaurants in the city, and I say that with the perspective of one who's been to essentially all of that upper tier with which EMP keeps company. I've also been lucky enough to go to Manresa twice. Each time I had the "Grand Tasting Menu" (priced at $130, and then $140), comprising around 30 courses. I can sum up my thoughts thusly: It is my favorite restaurant in the world. Period. No question about it. Chef David Kinch is nothing short of brilliant. He's got a wonderful biodynamic farm from which much of his produce comes. I feel like his restaurant also has just such a beautiful sense of place. I'll be going back in a few weeks myself, and I must say, once you go, you'll understand how I am already looking forward to a meal that is more than 2 weeks away... Go. Enjoy. Get the Grand Tasting Menu. And report back!

Verona Believe it or not, I actually visited certain places in Italy for things other than the food. I know this comes as a shock to some, but it is true. Case in point: Verona. The draw to this city was not Shakespeare's star-crossed love tale; nor was it the horsemeat I'd read about as being a traditional part of the cuisine. It was instead for the opera. The outdoor opera in Verona's 2,000-year-old Roman arena, that is. While in Venice, I'd purchased a ticket to see La Traviata. An overcast, cloudy and somewhat rainy forecast had me hoping for the best. Luckily, it cleared up that evening, just in time for the nighttime spectacle. It was certainly not your average traditional presentation of the opera, but the musicians and the singers were all very good. I quite enjoyed the performance, and thought the arena provided a lovely venue for it. I also found some time to walk around the city, taking in its beautiful piazzas from which beautiful classical music played by street performers seems to naturally emanate. Also checked out all the would-be Juliets, looking down from the her house's balcony to see not Romeo, but hoards of tourists with cameras. How romantic. Overall, I found it to be a quiet town, but a nice one. Not much to do, perhaps, but in Italy one mustn't forget about il dolce far niente, the sweetness of doing nothing. I arrived too late for a restaurant lunch the first afternoon, so opted instead for a panino from Salumeria G. Albertini, Corso S. Anastasia 41. Nothing but a very fresh roll of bread, some pecorino cheese from Tuscany (sorry, don't remember which type), and spicy Calabrese salame laced with peperoncino. Very tasty. Dinner, then, would be at a sit-down place, I decided. Even if that meant an earlier dinner time in order to make it to the opera okay. My guidebook, and my cheapness (I mean, uh, frugality) brought me to Osteria Dal Duca, Via Arche Scaligere 2, which offered the Mena della Tradizione Veronese, including a primo and a secondo for €14. I was delighted to see both donkey and horse on the menu (who wouldn't be?), so it was a pretty easy choice for me. I started with Bigoli al torchio con ragu d'asino. A thicker, almost spaghetti-like pasta that is extruded rather than rolled, sauced with a donkey ragu. Simple, and tasty. My secondo was Pastisada de caval con polenta (spezzatino di cavallo). A horsemeat stew served atop delicious yellow polenta. Quite tasty. This meal, in proper Italian fashion, was enjoyed with a glass of Amarone, arguably the region's most famous wine. Dessert would be some beautiful fresh figs I'd bought at the fruit vendor down the street, so with my dinner and wine, 'twas a measly €20 for a nice meal.

After Venice, I had less than a week left in bella Italia, but there was still an important stop to make before I headed west toward Milan. This stop was in a small town on the outskirts of Padova... Le Calandre Via Liguria 1, Sarmeola di Rubano (PD), 049/630303 website Arguably the most well-known restaurant in Italy among food-lovers worldwide. I had heard so much and read so much that I, in turn, expected so much from this meal. How could I not? Massimiliano Alajmo had earned two Michelin stars at the tender age of 22 back in 1996. The youngest chef ever to do so. Not one to be complacent, I suppose, he one-upped himself in 2002, earning three Michelin stars, the highest honor that organization can bestow on a restaurant. Again, at just 28, the youngest chef ever to attain that distinction. Now fast forward to 2007. What would the chef bring forth on my first visit to his restaurant? This was all I cared about, of course. For me, at the end of the day, all the ratings, rankings, and reviews in the world are secondary to what's on my plate. So without further ado, let me jump right into it... Hello. My name is tupac17616 and I have a problem. When presented with several different menu options, like an uncontrollable reflex, I inevitably opt for the longest, most involved (and therefore often the most expensive) of the bunch. It was no surprise, then, that I chose the In.gredienti degustation menu for my lunch that day. With more courses (and more appealing courses, for that matter) than the Grandi classici (Grand classics) delle Calandre or Adesso (Now) menus, it was an easy decision. Priced at €200 before wine had even been discussed, the price of admission here is clearly no joke. They whisked my menu away, only to be quickly replaced by a copy I could take home. I liked that, as I undoubtedly would have asked for it later. I'm sure they get that all the time, hence the take-home copy. Prety soon, we were off... While I sipped some prosecco (not to worry, oenophiles, I'll mention all the wine specifics later), pretty soon some nibbles arrived. Crema di melanzana croccante and rollatino di pesce. The former was very tasty, a little fritter with a totally liquid eggplant center. (My mind happily drifted to a meal I had at Manresa in Los Gatos, CA in August of 2006, with a sweet-corn version of the same thing). I didn't understand the waiter as he mentioned what type of fish was in the middle of the little roll-up, but the outside was fresh anchovy. This was also a tasty little bite, but the liquid eggplant fritter was the star of the plate. At this point, there is but one other diner in the restaurant besides myself, and she is on the complete opposite end of the room. Without any noise or commotion, and of course without flash, I proceeded to take a picture of the dish. Seconds later, one of the waiters came over to the table to say that Chef Alajmo asks that people not photograph his food. I know full well this is a crock of you-know-what. A guy in Venice I'd met three days prior had shown me the pictures still stored on his digital camera, and of course I'd seen tons of pictures published elsewhere online prior to the trip. Something about this really rubbed me the wrong way, for some reason. I'm paying dearly for this food, and as far as I'm concerned, if I'm not bothering anyone else, how I choose to remember the meal is up to me. But enough venting. I'll move on now. Another amuse-bouche arrived. Don't quote me on this, as I again had trouble understanding the description, but here's what I tasted: A slightly toasted cube of bread, parsley foam, watermelon, and almond-anchovy gelato. What's up with that combination?, you may ask. You tell me, as I certainly didn't get it. The textures of bread and watermelon don't exactly play nice together if you ask me, and while I enjoyed the salty-sweet, warm-cold contrast of the dish, I thought the flavors in the dish just didn't sing. Strange beginning to the meal. Many differnt kinds of housemade breads, breadsticks and crackers arrived, stacked like a sculpture on the plate. Frankly, they were all pretty bad. Certainly not what I would expect from a restaurant of this caliber. I left most of it untouched. The first official course then arrived. Al Aimo: pomodoro, olio, ricotta, fave, pane, fagiolini, basilico, peperoncino (dedicato ad Aimo Moroni). A tribute to one of Milan's most respected chefs, Aimo Moroni, this dish was one based about 99.9% on the quality of the ingredients and nothing else. The tomatoes were sweet and delcious. The ricotta, fresh and milky. The fava beans (pureed) and green beans (in small chunks) were vibrantly colored and flavorful. The olive oil was Sicilian, and quite good. The "bread" in this case was actually pane carasau, a thin crisp flatbread from Sardinia. Just enough peperoncino added to wake up the taste buds with a spicy top note. Very enjoyable dish overall. Next came Millefoglie di mare: sandwich croccante di pane con baccalà mantecato, insalata d'alghe e maionese di gamberi e scampi. A towering dish of phyllo dough layered with some different things: whipped salt cod; seaweed salad; a "mayonnaise" made with pureed shrimp and scampi (I'll let the wise fortadei translate that for us); and Italian caviar. The quality of the caviar wasn't particularly good; it acted only as a means to re-salt the dish, and unfortunately nothing more. The baccala and the seafood were both tasty, but the phyllo dough may as well not have been there at all, so overwhelmed by too much filling as it was. There was not enough textural contrast in the dish, and the monotonous creamy-salty taste just got boring by the end. Things took a better turn with the next course, Capelli d'angelo con crudo di triglie, oratine, alici, seppie e crostacei. Lightly chilled angel hair pasta, served with pieces of various raw fish: red mullet, sea bream, anchovy, shrimp and lobster. This was all sauced lightly with crema d'aragosta, a lobster reduction enriched with cream. It would seem that the sauce might cover up some of the delicacy of the fish, but that wasn't the case at all. It complimented everything well. Very refreshing and tasty dish. The fish and crustaceans were all impeccably fresh. Maybe the best course of the meal. Next up was Carne cruda sulla corteccia...versione estiva. Four small mounds of raw beef served on this ridiculous-looking wooden half-log ("corteccia"=bark). I can appreciate a playful presentation when I see one, but I found this one to be pretty stupid, frankly. Anyhoo, each mound of meat (the shoulder meat from mature Piemontese Fasson cattle, not veal as I had assumed) was sauced with a different fruit flavoring. Fruit?!, you may ask. Yes, I wondered why, too. Believe me. All of them were way too sweet. The first, mango; then passion fruit; apricot; and raspberry. If you took away the cloyingly sweet accompaniments, the meat was fine. But I, too, know how to chop meat. I don't really want or need to pay $300 for someone else to do it for me. I found all of the fruit accompaniments to be unnecessary and useless. But just in case there weren't enough sweetness on the plate already, there was a piece of watermelon meant to cleanse the palate. Of course. I can see how, after all that sweetness, one might need something sweet to, uh, get rid of the sweet taste. Oh wait. The fruit unfortunately continued. Next came a dish of Risotto con le conchiglie, rosmarino e frutto della passione. Risotto with "shells" (shellfish), including mussels, clams, and I can't quite remember what else. Why is it that I can't remember anything else? Well, the seafood was futile against the fruity, herbal onslaught form the passion fruit and rosemary. I must have missed some sort of memo, because I just had no idea where the chef was trying to go with this dish. I began to think about dessert, not because I necessarily wanted it yet, but because I felt like I'd already been eating it with the last two courses! Next up: Fegato grasso d'oca caramellata, salsa di albicocche e curry, polvere di grano tostato e menta. Okay, now he's just messing with me. Seriously. Where's the hidden camera? Seared goose foie gras with a sweet apricot/curry sauce, a pile of toasted wheat powder, a tiny chiffonade of fresh meat, and paper-thin pane carasau on top of it all, for a little more textural contrast. The foie gras was cooked well. I will give him that much. The top had a nice sear, giving way to creamy deliciousness underneath. The accompaniments for the goose liver, though, didn't really do much for me. The foie-gras-and-fruit combination is certainly not a new one, but I thought this course, just like the previous two, veered too much in the sweet direction. I found myself pushing the sauce and accompaniments to the side and just eating the foie gras by itself. Shame. Following the foie gras was the Filetto impanato ma non cucinato: carpaccio spesso, rotolato nel pane su salsa speziata d'ouvo e succo di rape rosse. Breaded, but not cooked, beef filet. In this case, a very thin, carpaccio-style slice, rolled in coarse toasted bread crumbs similar to panko. This rested on a spiced sauce enriched with egg yolk, and beetjuice. Surprise, surprise. This course was sweet, too. But at least this time it was more under control, as the beet's sweetness, especially, has a bit more earthiness to it, and the egg yolk present in the other sauce helped make that more rich and savory as well. I liked the textural contrast of the tender raw meat and the coarse breadcrumbs. This was a dish I quite enjoyed. The last meat course came with the Piccione di Sante arrostito con il suo pate di fegatini, indivia alla amarene e gorgonzola. I like how the Italians just call a spade a spade. None of the usual "squab" nonsense when referring to pigeons we happen to be eating instead of feeding breadcrumbs in the park. This pigeon was stuffed with a pate made from its liver, and then roasted. Accompanying the bird was endive with slightly sour cherries and slightly strong gorgonzola. This was a pretty nice dish, with strong flavors abound. I found myself eating the bird and the endive separately, but in this case, at least each was quite tasty on its own. And with that, it looked like it was time to move toward the sweeter end of the meal. But not before a little bit of cheese. The carrello dei formaggi, or cheese cart, had not yet made its appearance at my table, so I was excited for it. After a great explanation of what they had to offer, most of which was new to me, I enjoyed a selection of seven different cheeses. Excuse any mistakes I'll inevitably make in recalling the names correctly, but my notes say: plin alla canella (cinnamon); tuma d'la paja (soft, creamy, matured under straw, Piemontese); fiorile (rolled in flowers, flavored with garlic); affinato alla grappa di mele (flavored with apple grappa); golden gel (cow's milk, flavored with the skins and seeds of wine grapes, spicy/sweet/bitter all at once); gran sardo (sharp, sheep's milk cheese from Sardinia); blu delle cozie (sheep's milk blue, from the Alps of Piemonte). These were served with a few accompaniments: a spicy onion mostarda, a sweeter prune & sumac jam, and honey. This was a nice selection overall, and I'm always happy to try cheeses that are new to me. My favorites that afternoon were the plin alla canella, golden gel, and gran sardo (the only one among the bunch that I'd had before). Dessert time. Or more specifically, pre-dessert. Sorbetto di sedano verde. Celery sorbet. By itself, no other flavors present. I understand this is supposed to cleanse the palate, but come on now. Chef Alajmo can do better than that. Really. The serving was enough for a few bites, but one was plenty. Moving on to the actual dessert, "Costrizioni" al cioccolato - gioccolato 2007. Chocolate "Constraints" -- chocolate "game" 2007. Essentially, this "game" was to explore how our consumption of chocolate changes from childhood through adulthood through our elderly years. Cool idea. Ridiculous presentation. Wheeled out on a big wooden toy car, stacked high with a child's building blocks. One of the components of the dish was even presented in a baby bottle, so that one must suck out the contents. Fine dining at its best, this dish. I assume that Chef Alajmo is trying to assert that there are too many contraints that we place on what can be done with chocolate, as some of these combinations were a bit strange. There was a lot going on in this dish, so I'll divide my description into two parts. Let's start with the things that tasted good: liquid-chocolate filled bonbon topped with gold leaf; nutella and cream wafer sandwich; chocolate with liquid mint filling; beet gelee and white chocolate cream; baby bottle filled with warm cinnamon-flavored chocolate; bittersweet chocolate "cigar"; cherry granita with just a bit of chocolate mixed in here and there. And then there were the things that were, well, pretty bad: tepid coffee served in a shot glass atop a hazelnut-chocolate cream; an airy chocolate and saffron meringue; lettuce leaf with white chocolate, salt, and pepper; curried chocolate mousse. Aside from the baby bottle and the cigar, god only knows which of these dishes are for the young or the old typically. There's no telling. At least 7 of 11 components were good, though. Success rate could be worse, I suppose. Winding down now, it was time for caffe and piccola pasticceria, the petit fours of the meal. With my espresso, there were several small treats brought out. Coconut-and-mint liquid-filled chocolate; liquid-mint-filled chocolate cup; a few pieces of 70% cacao bittersweet chocolates; and "sweet" grissini (only in quotes as I couldn't nail down the flavor. It was chocolate and somethng else that was a bit strange.) These were pretty good, but by this point, my only thought was "Enough with the chocolate already". But that, my friends, was that. I should comment a bit on the wine. It is no exaggeration to say that the recommended selection for this meal was the most enjoyable progression of wines I'd had on the trip. I chose to do it by the glass to avoid selling the clothes off my back to pay for the pairing. But even for a novice like me, I found the wine list and service both to be fantastic. For those who are curious, I had the following wines: Ca' del Bosco Franciacorta Saten 2002 (Lombardia) €12 Franciacorta Brut Cabochon Rosé 2001, Monte Rossa (Lombardia) €18 Capitel Croce 1999, Anselmi (Veneto) €8 Pathos 2004, Santa Barbara (Le Marche) €12 Moscato Fior d'Arancio Passito 2003, La Montecchia (Veneto) €9 I realized later that I was charged for a glass of Recioto Moron 2004 (€11), a red dessert wine, as well, even though by the time they'd finally offered it, I wasn't in the mood for anything else sweet so I politely declined. But they said they will gladly fix that minor flub after coming back from their August vacation. Anyway, I really, really enjoyed the wine selection here. As I said before, the best I had on the trip. So what about some overall thoughts on the meal? As I'm sure this long-winded review probably hints at throughout, I can sum up my take on the meal pretty easily: A few high points, interspersed with far too many low ones. Overall, very underwhelming. Does price factor into that? Of course. When I pay €268 for a meal, I'd like it to be exceptional. This one just wasn't. The savory courses tended to be too sweet. The sweet ones, perhaps too savory. The ingredients, as evidenced in the delicious Al Aimo and Capelli d'angelo con crudo di mare dishes, were well-sourced and top-notch. Clearly, the chef is a skilled shopper. And no doubt, a skilled cook, too. I don't think it was the execution I found issues with, but rather the combinations of ingredients. Many times, I felt he was just trying too hard to be different, to be new, to be exciting. Forgetting what should be the main point...to make it delicious. Will I be back? Maybe someday, but I'm certainly not in the slightest hurry. Chef Alajmo has earned so much praise for his work already and I have no doubts he will continue to earn more as the years pass. But my meal that afternoon was an indication that this restaurant, perhaps, is just not my coppetta di tè.

Great, Chufi! Have a phenomenal time! I'll be eating vicariously through you.

To wrap up my thoughts on Venice, I should add a little bit about the Rialto Market. What a place. With just a week left in my trip at that point, I suppose it provided a nice bookend to my experience with outdoor markets in Italy. My favorites of the trip remained the two in Palermo, but the Rialto was definitely a close second. And the seafood selection, in particular, is absolutely mind-blowing. Really second-to-none. It was a veritable encyclopedia of different fish, mollusks, and crustaceans, many of which I'd never even seen before. Oh, to have a kitchen in order to be able to cook in Venice, what a treat that would be. Next time. But how could I walk around a fish market like this and not get something? Seeing countless varieties, I figured I would seek out the most pristine shirmp I could find, and eat some raw. At this point in the trip, my stomach had undoubtedly endured enough abuse that I was certain a little raw seafood wasn't going to kill me, especially considering how fresh much of the stuff looked. So I walked around, stopping at every single stall, and finally I found them. Gamberi rossi, glossy little red shrimp from the Mediterranean. I bought a pugno (handful), and was on my way. From a fruit vendor, I bought a single lemon. From my hotel, I borrowed some very coarse sea salt. And that, my friends, was lunch. Raw shirmp sprinkled with crunchy salt and topped off with a small squeeze of fresh lemon juice. So good. The fruit and vegetable (but not so much the meat) selection at the market was also very nice. Every morning in Venice, I started my day with whatever varieties of fresh figs they happened to be selling, often three or four different kinds. I also bought some beautiful fresh red currants, which is not something you often find in the US. And, the same day as the raw shrimp, actually, I had some wonderfully tasty salame di cavallo (horse) from the lone butcher shop at the market. Good stuff. Overall, quite a nice outdoor market. Ideally, the next time I'm back here will be in the spring. I am a sucker for Maryland soft-shell crabs here in the US, which means I undoubtedly need to try Venice's moeche (soft-shell lagoon crabs) next time...

So by this point in the trip, I was pretty much past the whole gelato-a-day thing, but that doesn't mean I didn't slip in a few sweets here and there in Venice. My search for a good gelato place first bought me to La Boutique del Gelato, Castello 5727, which seemed to be mentioned in several guidebooks and had a line out the door every time I passed. My cone of stracciatella (chocolate chip) and panna cotta was quite tasty, but I wouldn't say that either flavor-wise or texture-wise I'd place it among the best I'd had in Italy up to that point. I'd definitely return if in the area, though. The Gambero Rosso Gelaterie d'Italia book had been pretty consistently reliable so far on the trip, so I stopped into a place I saw in there as well. Gelateria Alaska di Pistacchi Carlo, Santa Croce 1159, had some funky flavors, of which I tried two: rucola-arancia (argula-orange) and uva-fragola (grape-strawberry). The texture of both, but especially the first one, was pretty crappy, I must say. Somebody please buy the man a stronger blender is he wants to used leafy plants again in his gelato. The other flavor was actually pretty good, but it was chunky and icy. Not a place I'd go back to probably, at least not for anything but traditional flavors. As usual, I stopped at few bakeries as well. From Pasticceria Ballaria, Salizada San Giovanni Grisostomo, I had some extremely tasty torrone morbido alla cassata siciliana, soft nougat with fat chunks of candied fruit and nuts. Very good. From Pasticceria Pitteri Giovanni, Cannaregio 3843, I had pan dei vini al pistacchio, a dense pistachio cake with raisins and topped with almonds. Not particularly special. From Majer, Calle Larga Fondamentale del Megio, I had pane veneziano al pistacchio, much like the treat from the previous place, but this time more of a fat, crumbly cookie texture than a cake. This was pretty tasty, though it called out for a glass of milk in a major way. Another afternoon, I also stopped at Gobbetti, Dorsoduro 3108/B, where I had some spicy and tasty cioccolato al peperoncino. Lastly, this is not exactly a stop for sweets, but there's no place else to put it: The tourist sucker that I am, I went to the famous Harry's Bar, San Marco 1323, for a (€15!) bellini, a drink made with prosecco and white peach puree. I glanced at the menu as I sat with my drink, too. Ha! The prices in there are so high it's comical. The drink was okay (why they serve it in that kind of glass, though, is beyond me), but I got out of there as soon as I could.

No food-focused trip to Venice would be complete without sampling cichetti, the city's answer to Spanish tapas. These establishments are scattered all over the city. Some focus more on the food, while others focus on the wine, but most have a nice mix of both. Often seafood-based, these dishes can make a nice snack or even a light meal, all washed down with one of the region's many nice white wines. The first place I tried was literally across the street (well, alley) that my hotel was on. Trattoria Ai Promessi Sposi, Cannaregio 4367, had some old NYT articles posted in the window, and I noticed walking by each day that they seemed to be quite consistent in bringing out fresh dishes throughout the earlier part of the day, covering the entire length of the bar with a whole array of options. This may or may not be evident by the tales I've posted so far, but I am an incredibly indecisive dude. When I walked in here, how was I to choose? Luckily, I didn't have to. The gran cicchettata, priced at €13 (the individual items themselves were typically between €1 and €3), provided me with a nice selection of things to try. Mozzarella in carrozza con baccala (fried mozzarella sandwich stuffed with salt cod); capesante (scallops); zucchini; melanzana (eggplant); pollo (chicken wing); fritelle di patate (potato fritters); granchio (crab); melanzana con alici e pomodoro (eggplant with anchovy and tomato); sarde in saor (the same sardine/onion/pine nut dish I mentioned in the previous post); and calamari e polpetti (small squid). Like I said, quite a selection, and the quality, aside from the terribly overcooked scallop, was pretty good. My favorite was the mozzarella in carrozza. This tasty and cheap meal helped show me that maybe I could eat well for not so much money in Venice after all. The same article posted in the window at that place mentioned Cantina Do Mori, San Polo 429, as one of the best, and most well-known places for cichetti, so one afternoon I made my way there. This place has been around a long, long time (1462), and you can immediately tell that when you walk in the door. This dark bar with its low, wooden-beamed ceiling immediately drags you out of this century and back to another time in the city’s history. I had a selection of seven different cichetti, many of which were quite disappointing. I would give you a dish-by-dish rundown of what I had, but all I remember for sure was some tasty baccala mantecato (whipped salt cod with milk) bruschetta, an incredibly dry tuna “meatball”, and overly chewy octopus. These seven dishes and a glass of the house Merlot brought the total to €11. But even for that little money, I’m not sure I’d eat here again. Pretty underwhelming experience. One place mentioned in my guidebook, Enoteca al Volto, Calle Cavalli 4081, San Marco, offered both cichetti and a full regular menu. This place was tucked away on a quite little street (yep, they do exist) near the Rialto bridge, so I decided to give it a shot one night. Their stove had stopped working that afternoon, they said, and they were sorry, but they could only offer the room-temperature cichetti they had behind the counter. Fair enough, I thought, as the seafood selection looked pretty tasty. So for €15, I had their antipasto misto di mare, mixed seafood antipasto, and made a meal of it. I had quite a selection: sarde in saor; an outstanding baccala mantecato, the best of the trip; polpo e pepperoni (octopus with bell pepper); baccala in umido (stewed salt cod); seppia (cuttlefish cooked in its own ink); baccala con pomodoro e cipolla (salt cod cooked in a tomato/onion sauce); and capesante (buttery scallops). I left nothing but the bell pepper (how anyone enjoys raw bell pepper is beyond me) on the plate. The baccala mantecato, especially, really stole the show. Quite an affordable and enjoyable little dinner. This last place is more an enoteca than anything else, but they bill themselves as a spot for cichetti as well, so I should probably mention it here. Enoteca Mascareta, Calle Lunga Santa Maria Formosa 5183, has quite an extensive list of wines, and they will serve you absolutely anything you’d like by the glass, which was a policy I appreciated. Their selection of regular antipasti, primi, and secondi were pretty overpriced, I thought, so I figured it best to stick with something simpler. Instead of the meat-and-cheese thing I’d done so many times on the trip already, I figured the piatto di pesce, platter of different seafood antipasti, would be a nice change of pace. There were all kinds of things on this plate, most of which were pretty bad: (over-)smoked swordfish carpaccio; (over-)smoked bluefin tuna carpaccio; over salted smoked salmon; fresh anchovies; marinated anchovies; dry baccala mantecato; sweet baby shrimp; sarde in saor (too sweet); fillet of way-overcooked cod; red pepper stuffed with tuna; and octopus salad with tomatoes and olives (the best thing on the plate). As I’m sure my glowing descriptions have already told you, I wasn’t too thrilled with the food. To drink, I had a glass of Tocai Friuliano and a glass of Incrocio Manzoni, neither of which stood a chance in standing up to all the smoke and the salt. At €26 for dinner and wine, it wasn’t terribly steep, but I’m not sure I’d ever come back here to do anything but drink.

Venezia I wasn't sure what to expect from Venice. Would it be an expensive tourist trap, the Disneyland of Italy, and a culinary wasteland? Or a captivating spectacle, with its countless canals, palaces, and piazzas providing the backdrop? I'd heard both arguments from people both before and during my vacation, so I figured it was time to see for myself. I can sum up my thoughts on Venice in one sentence: It would probably be my first choice for where to live if I packed my bags and moved to Italy....back in the 1700s. I feel like, especially at night, there is (or more accurately, would have been) a mysteriousness about the city that I find quite appealing. The dark, byzantine maze of canals and alleys. The meaningless street names. The fact that a printed map is all but useless. I could easily imagine cruising around the canals in a gondola, face concealed with some kind of extravagant Carnevale mask, sneaking around here and there. Doing so in 2007, though, would require a different kind of navigation. Going anywhere in the city now is like walking a gauntlet. Dodge the gondola guys telling you hello in forty languages and promising a "special price for you". Quick, duck! You're robbing someone of a priceless photo op of the grand canal. Close your ears, honey, another couple is arguing about why they're not having fun in what is supposed to be the most romantic city in the world. You get the idea... This is not to say it is a city without beauty. The Basilica di San Marco and its infinite piazza are breathtaking. The Rialto market, as I'll probably mention below, is a foodie's paradise. But overall, I thought overall the city lacked character. If you want to really feel Italy, in my opinion, this is not the place to do it. But before I let this rant get any more out of hand, let me talk about what this thread is here for, the food! Dinner the first night was among the most traditional meals that I had in Venice, and also among the better ones. I chose Vini da Gigio, Cannaregio 3628/A, based mainly on its proximity to my hotel. It had been a long day of traveling, and a huge lunch at Uliassi, so I was not in search of fireworks. I started with sarde in saor, a very traditional Venetian dish that I would try several more times before I bid the city farewell. Sweet-and-sour marinated sardines with onions and pinenuts. While it was okay, I thought it was too sweet, and this would prove to be a common theme for me with this dish. Maybe I just don't get it. Next I had a plate of bigoli in salsa. Another Venetian specialty, with long noodles not unlike spaghetti, dressed with a simple anchovy and onion condimento. Tasty stuff. To drink, I had a quartino of a white wine called Custoza, and dessert was sgroppino, a Venetian specialty of prosecco, vodka, and lemon sorbet. Nice refreshing way to end the meal. Fairly reasonably priced meal, at €35. Dinners on other nights proved to be a bit more pricey, much to my chagrin. Bancogiro (Osteria da Andrea), Campo San Giacometto, San Polo 122, was a prime example of this. Pointed out in my Fodor's guide as not only a moderately priced restaurant, but a "Fodor's Choice" as one of the best of its category in Italy. I started with lasagne di pesce, fish lasagna that no doubt included some baccala (salt cod), for which the Venetians seem to have quite a soft spot. This was not very good. The sauce tasted sort of like an unsalted gravy, bland and almost floury. Luckily, things turned around with the tartare di tonno con pomodorini e mozzarella di bufala. The tuna was impeccably fresh and cut up into coarse chunks that retained a lovely texture; the cherry tomatoes had a wonderful sweet-acidic burst of flavor; and the mozzarella was milky and delicious. Nice dish. Dessert, too, was quite enjoyable. Fichi con ricotta, miele, e pistacchio. Three fresh Black Mission figs, three quenelles of very good quality ricotta, drizzled with honey and sprinkled with chunks of toasted pistachio. Very simple, but very tasty. With the savory portion of the meal, I had a glass of Falaghina. My notes of my reaction to that wine simply say: "No." After dessert, I also had a glass of Verduzzo sweet wine from Friulli. Not really my cup of tea, either, but you don't know until you try it, of course. Dinner at this giudebook "bargain" spot set me back €50. I guess I'd better be more careful, eh? The single best thing I had to eat in Venice came from Vecio Fritolin, Calle della Regina, Rialto 2262, at dinner another evening. Their menu proudly boasted that they make their own bread, pasta, and desserts in house, use only fresh, never frozen, fish, and don't use canned goods of any kind. Imagine that, a restaurant that actually makes the food they serve. Crazy. Anyhoo, the bread was pretty darn good, I must say. I started with a spritz, a popular drink in Venice, consisting of prosecco, Campari, and a bit of club soda. I started with a dish of tagliatelle al cacao con calamaretti e fiori di zucca. This, to me, is creativity just for the sake of creativity. My only question after eating this was...why? It was okay and all, but I didn't feel like the bittersweet pasta meshed exceptionally well with the calamaretti or the zucchini flowers. After my next dish, though, all was quickly forgotten. The frittura di pesce con zucchini e polenta was absolutely sublime. Fresh, flaky chunks of fish fillet (don't ask me what kind). Crispy head-on shrimp. Tiny squid so fresh that their ink burst forth when I bit into them. Tender zucchini slices. Wonderful grilled white polenta, as one sees so commonly in Venice. The fish fry from heaven, seriously. Dessert, unfortunately, was a ripoff. I saw tartufo di cioccolato on the menu and asked if it was the Venetian take on that dish that I'd read about in a few guidebooks. A block of gianduja, dropped in a sea of whipped cream in a cup. The waiter responded with a casual affirmative, and later delivered what was no more than a scoop of chocolate ice cream on a plate drizzled with Hershey's Syrup or something like it. For €8, I would have hoped for something more. Dinner here came to €50. Not cheap. But oh, man, the frittura di pesce... One afternoon, I decided to check out La Zucca, Santa Croce 1762, a restaurant whose focus is much more herbivorous than my diet had been lately, so it sounded like a nice change of pace. It was. I started with verdure fresche, a fresh vegetable composed salad of cucumber, lettuce, tomato, cabbage, and red cabbage. This was not amazing, but if you've read any of this blog so far, you can understand how this must have hit the spot at the time. I'd not had a decent serving of vegetables in quite a while. My main course was a knockout. Flan di zucca con ricotta stagionata. This pumpkin-like squash flan was dense but very tender. The ricotta stagionata on top was like ricotta salata on crack. I loved the stuff. Also sprinkled with toasted pumpkin (or butternut squash, or whatever squash this might have been) seeds. Very good dish. The total here, I think, was around €17 or so. Nice lunch.

Great report, Sampaguita. Sounds like your experience at Gener Neuv was much like my own back in July... Gener Neuv Lungotanaro 4, 0141/557270 Another Fodor's Choice from my guidebook, this place sounded quite promising. Come to find out later, the place has one Michelin star, which I would say is just about right. Anyhoo, I had the tasting menu, the Menu Tradizionale: che, dal 1971 ha fatto la storia del Gener Neuv. Things started off some champagne, ahem, prosecco, along with four types of bread (salted!) and grissini. The stuzzichino di benvenuto, amuse-bouche, consisted of four tastes: a frico of parmigiano-reggiano and, I think, chives, topped with creamy robiola fresca; a piece of an herb frittata; peperoni ripieno, a yellow pepper stuffed with some sort of cheese; a cube of prosciutto layered with prosciutto gelee; and finally, what tasted like some kind of potato salad. The robiola was my favorite among the bunch, but all were pretty good. Then came the Quadro di antipasti, composto da: Vitello tonnato, Terrina di verdure, Galantina di coniglio e mandorle, e Anguilla marinata in aceto cotto di barolo. The vitello tonnato was the best version of that dish I've had, with essentially carpaccio-style thin slice of rosy pink veal, yet this dish is still, perhaps, not really my thing. The vegetable terrine was light and flavorful, a great summer dish. The gallantine of rabbit and almond was flavorful, and had a pleasantly chunky consistency that reminded you this was, at heart, rustic cooking. The eel, marinated in cooked barolo vinegar, was great, definitely the best of the four. It was also served with raisins that acted as a nice sweet counterpoint to the richness of the eel. As an alternative to any of these 4 dishes that might not be to one's liking, there was an option of Foglioline di vitello crudo, e battuta al coltello, olio, limone, e robiola di Roccaverano. I eat anything and everything, though, and once the very kind owner learned that I love raw meat, he sent this dish out to me as well. Thin slices of lean raw veal on one part of the plate, simply drizzled with olive oil, salt, and pepper. On the other side, more raw veal meat, "battered by a knife", literally, roughly ground. This was had the same simple adornments, along with a squeeze of lemon juice, and a little block of robiola cheese alongside it. Fantastic. Next up was agnolotti "ai tre stufati" (vitello, coniglio e maiale), light pasta pillows stuffed with a rich mixture of veal, rabbit, and pork. Quite tasty. For the secondo, I had finanziera all'astigiana (filoni, animelle, creste di galleto, funghi sott'olio, infarinati, saltati in olio d'olive e marsala). God only knows what animals, or more specifically what animal parts I was eating. I'll admit my food Italian isn't perfect, but from what I gather, I had veins, sweetbreads, coxcombs, and marinated mushrooms all stewed together with marsala wine. This was tasty, if perhaps, surprisingly, a bit too subtle. I was expecting more of a meaty flavor, but it just never came. I spied a cheese cart, and just about all of the cheeses were new to me, so I asked if I might have a sampling before we headed toward dessert. Sure, they said, no problem. The Degustazione di formaggi piemontesi d.o.p. was fantastic. Eight different types of cheeses, along with chestnut honey, a dark cherry compote, and a fiery cherry mostarda. My favorites were one of the two types of robiola they served (the fresh, unaged one), the bra duro, and the toma di murazzano. I'd finally made it to dessert, the Dolcezze di Asti: Semifreddo al torrone, Bonet, Panna cotta, Zabaione freddo al moscato d'Asti, e Sorbetto di Barolo Chinato. My, my. Everything was so good. It was my first time trying Bonet, the traditional chocolate pudding-like dessert of the region. The semifreddo was very good, as was the panna cotta. The stars, though, were the outstanding zabaglione, and the Barolo Chinato sorbet. Of course, I wasn't done yet, as there was still the Piccola pasticceria della casa on the way, a tray of lovely little chocolates, cookies, cakes, and confection. Good show. All this food, by the way, was accompanied by regional wines. Monferrato, Barbera d'Asti, and Moscato d'Asti with dessert. The tasting menu was €55 to begin with, the addition of the wine was nominal. The raw veal dish was gratis, and the outstanding cheese course, I'm almost ashamed to say, only tacked on an additional €11. All said and done, I was out the door for €88. Not cheap, of course, but very well worth it, I'd say. The best meal of the trip up to that point. The family, too, was very kind. The mother is the chef, along with her two daughters helping her in the kitchen while her husband runs the front of the house. Great group of people to have met after a meal. I thanked them profusely, vowed to return, and went on my way.

My understanding is that shrimp scampi is an Italian-American preparation of shrimp (garlic, butter, parsley, etc), not a type of shrimp. And scampi come only from other waters in the Atlantic, Mediterranean, and Adriatic, no? While I suppose "smaller lobster" (or the French "langoustine", or ) would have been more accurate than "larger shrimp", I figured it got the medium-sized-crustacean point across just the same. I'd also love to know some of the basic mistakes about food I've been making. Please free me from the shackles of my ignorance. I'm serious. I'd appreciate it. If you are referring to Madonnina del Pascatore, then yes, I can see how, say, zabaglione dropped in liquid nitrogen is a far cry from being traditional to the area. But with the cuisine of other chefs working in a similar realm in, say, Emilia-Romagna (Bottura, Marchini, ecc.), I don't readily agree with your assertion that they stray so completely from the traditional cuisine of that region. If a hypothetical chef cooks the exact same ingredients sous vide that you would normally roast/braise/saute/grill/whatever, does that make his food immediately non-traditional? Would you say that tradition is based as much on the cooking technique as it is the end result, the actual taste of the dish? I agree with Judith on this one. This calls for a new thread.

I cannot recommend highly enough a side trip to Senigallia, Le Marche, when you are staying in Urbino. Just 70km away. Both higher-end (Madonnina del Pescatore, Uliassi) and lower-end (Aniko, Osteria del Teatro) restaurants there provided the best food I had during my trip to Italy this summer.

I haven't been there, but this guy has. Cheese cart looks nice.

Sadly, my Italy trip was over the 14th of August. I've just been really slow in getting the last few weeks of it posted! No rest for the weary, though, as last week I was on the road again, coming to my new home here in sunny California. Guess it's time I get to writing again. Best wishes for a wonderful trip through Italy for you both. I look forward to hearing about your adventures!

I thought lomo meant loin. But this cut was a ribeye, not tenderloin, eh? Sounds delicious, whatever it was. I didn't know you'd been to Luger and Striphouse, either. While both places are pretty good (I can't speak for the steaks at BLT, but I did have some phenomenal lamb chops there), they don't really live up to expectations, and the atmosphere in both places kind of has me looking around the room for the nearest window to jump out of. Sounds like this place in Mendoza was better, even if it was in a hotel. Damn, I'm impressed. Did you take notes on this meal or is your wine palate just that good? Have you had any hesperidina to drink yet? If so, how it is? Always room for one more vineyard. I like that kind of dedication, my friend. Amen. Even worse when one of those mines is planted by a waiter making a recommendation. Wait, wait. Cappelletti and orecchiete? Perche?

Eureka! Browing through this interesting Italian foodblog, I finally figured out the name of the sweet wine I had at Osteria La Francescana in Modena! une Mùfe di Piculit dal quatri Marco Sara 2004 Friuli-Venezia Giulia Nice. I loved that stuff.

Looks delicious to me!

I should mention that Catia Uliassi, the chef's sister, is such a ray of sunshine in the front of the house, as well. Her grace and contagious smile really make the diners feel welcome there.

ULIASSI Banchina di Levante 6, Senigallia (AN), 071/65463 WEBSITE Arriving at my hotel in Senigallia the day before, I happened to mention to the lady working the front desk that I was headed to Madonnina del Pescatore that afternoon, and was thinking of visiting Uliassi as well. She gave me the kind of look that one gives a lottery-winner -- a congratulations that almost borders on envy. "Mio dio," she replied, "fantastico." She went on to explain how respected these two chefs were, not only in the area, but all around the country. Unquestionably the two best restaurants in Le Marche, in her opinion. But which is better?, I asked. Her answer to this was simple and clear: "Those two restaurants are here," she said in Italian, reaching her hand as high as she could, "while everything else is here," dipping her hand down near her waist. "Un altro livello, quelli ristoranti. Non si puo sbagliare." Both restaurants are really on another level, she assured me. You can't go wrong with either. Endorsements like this make it quite easy to decide among two great choices -- do them both, of course. So the day after lunch at Madonnina del Pescatore, I was ready to see what Chef Mauro Uliassi would have up his sleeve. Little did I know what I was getting into. It is always a wonderful thing to experience a meal that dazzles. It is better yet to experience one that inspires. For me to better explain what I mean, let me jump right into it... Even on that dreary, rainy day, this was a beautiful place to dine. I chose to sit outside on the white patio, where the only soundtrack was that of the ocean waves and the only traffic, that of the seagulls drifting across the sky. The restaurant is cozily tucked away in a less touristed section of beach along the blue-green Adriatic, whose delicious bounty would provide the majority of the meal that was to come. While I sipped an aperitivo of particularly refreshing spumante, some food began to arrive. First, two long, crispy grissini (breadsticks), one flavored with parmigiano-reggiano and the other with onion. Then the Loaker di fegato grasso e pralina di nocciola came along. Have any idea what a Loacker wafer cookieis? I certainly didn't at the time, though apparently the treats are pretty popular in Italy. Presumably not like this, though. This was three thin wafers, holding together two layers of luxiously fatty foie gras and salty-sweet hazelnut praline. The exposed sides of the filling were dotted with coarse flakes of fleur de sel. I hope it goes without saying that this was incredibly tasty. I was already smiling, and I was just getting started. Chef Uliassi had come out of the blocks strong, and I didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't going to let up anytime soon. Another dish arrived: Pasta soffiata, baccalà mantecato, salsa cruda di pendolini e basilico. Two "blown" pasta shells, first slow-cooked, then later flash-fried to achieve an airy but crisp consistency not unlike shrimp chips (do such comparisons make me a food nerd? ). One shell was filled with a refresing mixture of chopped fresh tomato, cucumber, basil and some spices that weren't afraid to stand up and be heard. Much like gazpacho, refreshing and pleasantly spicy all at once. The other shell was filled with creamy whipped baccalà, or salt cod, and two other types of creams, one of black olive, and the other a sweeter puree of roasted peppers and garlic, if I remember correctly (which I probably don't). At this point, the menu finally arrived. I opened it quickly, and closed it just as fast. Menu sorpresa, the first page said in bold. Surprise menu. My mind was instantly made up. I put myself in Chef Uliassi's hands for the afternoon, and here's what he did... Four types of bread came out, all hot, and served in a fishing net for a bread basket. One was black, made with squid ink and sprinkled with white slivers of almond. Another was a ciabatta roll; another, a sort of raisin bread; the last, whole wheat. Next came the Tagliatelle di seppia e alghe marine. Thin strips of raw cuttlefish "noodles", sauced with its own ink and a type of sea weed, and sprinkled with coarse toasted breadcrumbs for textural contrast. A relatively simple combination, prepared with neither too many ingredients, nor too few. Every part of the dish, it seemed, had something important to say. This would become a trend the rest of the afternoon. The Scampo zen soon followed. In the center was one gloriously fresh raw scampo (a type of larger shrimp) on a skewer, covered with sake foam. Raked around the plate were zen garden designs of dehydrated raspberry and green tea powders, and in the corners, a wonderfully refreshing dice of cucumber and pineapple with grated lime zest. I think I may have mentioned this before, but I love raw shrimp. Again, the flavor combination was just spot on; nothing on the plate was extraneous. What else can I say? No complaints whatsoever. Next came the only dish I had specifically requested: Zuppa di topinambour e gelato di ricci di mare. Jerusalem artichoke soup with sea urchin gelato. But wait, there's more. Also piled off to the side was more raw shrimp. And sprinkled everywhere were the same coarse toasted bread crumbs I'd seen two courses ago. This dish had really caught my eye on the menu (I love, love, love uni), and it did not disappoint. The hot-cold, creamy-crunchy, creamy-salty contrast among everything made this a very enjoyable dish to eat, as no two bites would taste exactly the same. It was a dish that kept changing as you ate it, and was simply one cog in the wheel of a meal that was doing exactly the same thing. Next up was Erbe Selvatiche, cristalli di sale nero e capesante. Forgive me, as I have a hard time explaining the sheer brilliance of this salad. Wild herbs. Fennel. Strawberries. Grapefruit. Green beans. Balsamic vinegar. Frozen rounds of cucumber. Frozen rounds of watermelon. Warm sauteed scallops. Black salt. It would seem that such a long list of ingredients could easily lead to dissonance. This combination though, was nothing short of symphonic. It danced across every tastebud on my tongue: sweet, sour, bitter, and salty. Again, the chef's command of contrast (of temperature, of flavor, of texture) within the dish was incredible. I really can't say enough good things about this dish, so I'm going to stop here, day-dream about it for a second, and move on. Following that up was the Schiacciata di patate, cannocchie e tartufo nero. If there is a cooler looking crustacean than the mantis shrimp, I would love to see it. These bug-eyed creatures are not only nice to look at, but incredibly delicious. One of the tastier discoveries I made on the trip, I'd say. Lightly steamed, the shrimp was resting on a delicious pillowy mound of "crushed" potatoes and some kind of herb, and topped with a black truffle sauce. It might seem like the intensely earthy flavor of truffles would overshadow the delicate sweetness of the shrimp, but that did not happen here. It was perfectly balanced, leaving one to wonder whether the shrimp was nobly carrying the flavor of the truffles, or vice versa. Either way, a delicious combination. The hits just kept coming, with the Canocchia in nitrocitronette con shot di umami . A warm lightly cooked mantis shrimp, resting on a large spoon along with fat globs of citronette (like a vinaigrette, but with citrus juice providing the acid) that had been dropped in liquid nitrogen. Hot and cold hit the tongue at once. The "umami shot" was actually spremitura di granchio, an intensely savory crab reduction that I could hardly believe had actually come from the sea. Again, the chef has played so many beautiful chords at once. The naturally sweet shrimp contrasting the almost meaty crab reduction. The warmth of the shrimp diametrically opposed to the cold blast of the citronette. What a fantastic dish. Next on tap was a refreshing Tonno in caipirinha. Inspired by the national cocktail of Brazil, this dish took those flavors and paired them with impeccably fresh tuna that had come from the waters of the Adriatic Sea, whose waves crashed along the beach as I ate. The three small cubes of raw tuna were served along with a cold diced of what I assume was frozen lime and fresh lime. Yet it was not overly sour, so I wonder if there was not something else in the mix as well. Perhaps they'd been cooked in a simple syrup before freezing. Or perhaps the cachaça that was also present helped cut through it a bit. Whatever the case, it was just sweet-tart enough to be refreshing, while still allowing the tuna's fresh flavor to shine through. Then meat made an appearance for the first time since the foie gras early on, with the Maialino Parisi, astice, e giardiniera di verdure. Insanely moist slow-cooked suckling pig (raised by Paolo Parisi, apparently) and lobster taken to exactly the right point of doneness to keep it moist, delicious, and not the slightest bit chewy or tough. These rested atop very lightly pickled vegetables: carrot, cauliflower, tiny red pearl onions, etc. Dotted around the plate was a vibrantly colored and pleasantly tart raspberry vinaigrette. And rounding out this dish, there was another reminder that sometimes rich and meaty flavors can come from the sea, too: three delicious grilled heads of mazzancolle, a type of prawn. The most tasty part of that creature. Also resting atop the lobster and pork was two strips of something I couldn't quite identify. The flavor first suggested pork skin, but it was soft. Then I thought maybe tripe of some kind, but it was smooth, and not the slightest bit tough. Whatever it was, it had a wonderfully rich fatty flavor without the greasy mouthfeel. Overall, this was a very delicious take on surf and turf. Well done. Firmly planted in the sea again, there was the Albanella con molluschi e crostacei. The albanella was one of those glass jars with the air-tight lids that clamp down. Filled with scampi, mezzancolle, and vongole (clams), covered with a broth made from the same creatures and enriched with aromatic vegetables including wild fennel. This was cooked for half an hour, I believe he said, in a bain marie, or waterbath. They don't unlock the lid until the dish is placed before you, and I can remember that first aroma like it was yesterday. Glorious. Now take the flavor of the best shellfish soup/stew you've ever had and intensify it by a factor of about 5. That's how good this was. The pure essence of the ingredients, plain and simple. Still not done, I now had Sogliola, cus cus, quinoa fritta e cocomero. Two stark white lightly cooked (steamed?) piece of sole fish, topped with fried quinoa, and resting on a bed of couscous with about the same size grain as the quinoa. (Does it make me strange that James Brown was shrieking "I got soul, and I'm super bad" in my head as I ate this?). Mixed through the couscous were delicious summery-sweet chunks of watermelon. This all rested in a shallow pool of tomato water, enriched with the perfect blend of mixed herbs that I couldn't quite identify (mint, maybe?). The textural contrast was phenomenal, and the flavor pairing deliciously refreshing. The kitchen really seemed to be firing on all cylinders today. I was in shock that I'd not had even a merely mediocre dish yet. I would be in even bigger shock once I was done, though, and at this point, there was still more to go. Next came Strigoli al nero di seppia, parmigiano, calamaretti pennini e basilico. Thick black hand-rolled worms of pasta, served with tiny grilled calamari, several mussels (without their shells), a few pieces of fresh tomato, some basil, and scales of parmigiano-reggiano. Most times, having cheese with a seafood pasta dish is a no-no, but here, the richness of the squid ink and the smoky flavor of the grilled calamari supported the flavor of the cheese perfectly. I should note that even with this dish where the focus is clearly on the noodles first and foremost (they were toothsome and delicious), and the condiment second, the calamari were perfectly cooked. Not the slightest bit under- or over-done, as the texture was just right. Again, nothing bad to say about this dish. Following that up was the Oca laccata e fegato grasso di anatra. Two pieces of perfectly crisp-skinned, pan-roasted goose "lacquered" with a frutti di bosco ("fruits of the forest", or summer berries) glaze that was perfectly sweet and tart without being too much of either. In between those was an unctuous piece of duck foie gras. Scattered on either side were some lightly stewed raspberries and blueberries that had made up the sauce for the goose. And at the ends of the plate were two square chunks of pineapple, dusted with tiny slivers of fresh mint. This was meant to be a palate cleanser, I was told, after the rich, meaty flavors of the goose and duck liver. Even with meat, it seems that Chef Uliassi can do no wrong. The stronger flavors of this dish were an indicator that I might finally be making my way toward the sweeter end of the meal after all. Time to start winding down to the end of the meal now, they brought out the next dish: Zuppa di gorgonzola, sorbetto di sedano, e datteri. Chilled gorgonzola "soup" (the texture of partially melted gelato), a little mound of crunchy celery granita, and pieces of dried dates. Rather than rave about the incredible deliciousness of this dish, it is probably more telling to explain my reaction. A guy sitting with a large party probably 30 or 40 feet from me yelled across to me, saying "We could see you smiling all the way from over here! That must be great!". Oh, it was. It was. I couldn't help but to smile. If the previous dish was to be called the "cheese course", I figured I was in for some dessert, and I was: Meringa di ananas, gelato di fragola, e mou al rum. Two long sticks of pineapple meringue, propped up against a quenelle of strawberry gelato that rested on cubes of fresh mango. Streaked across the plate underneath all that was a delicious white mousse, which tasted of coconut milk. Alongside that was also a thin line of dark caramel, presumably flavored with rum, though honestly I don't really remember. Just as they had all afternoon long, the flavors and textures of this dish married beautifully together. The refreshing tropical taste of this dessert was a great way to end things. But of course, such tasting menu extravaganzas can never actually end with just dessert. Why, there was caffe and petit fours to be had. With my espresso, I enjoyed three small treats: Piccolo bombolone alla crema; Crema bruciata al caffe; and Biscotto al nero di seppia. A small donut filled with pastry cream; coffee-flavored crème brulee, and a crunchy little rock of a squid ink "cookie". All were quite tasty, but the latter was by far the most interesting. Only slightly sweetened, and somehow with the tongue-tingling consistency of pop rocks, it was a delicious small bite to officially end the meal. Sorry to all the oenophiles out there, as I don't seem to have written down the wines I enjoyed that day, though I recall starting with some spumante and later having some verdicchio. But anyway, with that knock-out tasting menu, three glasses of wine, and coffee, the total came out to €140. Not cheap, of course, but more than worth every euro. I'm not sure that even the short novel which I seem to have just drafted can really express how incredible this meal was. Unquestionably the best meal of the trip. And I'd be lying if I said it wasn't among the very best meals I've ever had anywhere (only Manresa in Los Gatos, CA has ever left me with that same feeling). As far as I am concerned, Mauro Uliassi is a genius. The man has a gift, there is no doubt about it. Each dish was a beautiful study in contrast and depth. The flavors, the textures, and the temperatures all showcased the work of a chef who clearly understands balance. I found the progression of the meal to be absolutely perfect. Each dish satisfied fully in the moment, yet left you giddy with anticipation for what was yet to come. After a tour of the kitchen, Chef Uliassi told me about how he looks at the meal as a journey of sorts. It would be boring, he thought, to have a meal that is too predictable, too "flat", as he called it. He prefers instead to keep one always on his or her toes, riding a delicious rollercoaster, unsure what is around the next turn or over the next hill. It often happens at even the best restaurants that exceptional dishes are often interspersed with mediocre or merely good ones. But every now and again, that spark stays lit the entire meal. This was one of those times for me. What can I say? I guess it was just my lucky day. I will undoubtedly be back at this restaurant sometime. And believe me....that sometime can't come soon enough.

That is a very valid question indeed! Let's just say Italy left me with a little parting gift of about, oh, 20 pounds. But what a journey it was.

Judith, I'm thrilled to learn that things are up and running with the restaurant! You and Jeff are the most gracious hosts, and your cooking is a beautiful thing (I still think about that Piemontese room-temperature eggplant parmigiana, for example). I am sure that will translate into nothing but success in this new venture. All the best to you both, tupac17616

Any bay area eGullet-ers planning on going to one of the two Tomato Modernista dinners held Tuesday, September 18 and Wednesday, September 19? I would love to go, but am without dinner companions as of yet, or even transportation for that matter (minor details ). Let me know!

Thanks! Glad you've been enjoying the reports. I've been pretty slow in getting them posted lately, but some more should be on the way soon!

I happen to know a guy who had the same mindset as he began a food-and-wine-centric trip to Italy this summer. These days, he doesn't really care who questions whether or not he knows enough about wine to discuss it, as he discovered countless wines he now enjoys immensely. My point is, I'm probably not alone in thinking that we'd all love to hear about your wine experiences in Buenos Aires, regardless of how few and far between they may be. One's perspective in trying something for the first time is often infinitely more refreshing than one who fancies himself a connoisseur. Don't forget that, amigo.