We took a water taxi from the hotel back to the train station on a beautiful morning in Venice. I took a bunch of pictures on the way, taking it all in for one last (probably the last) time. Now that we were experts with the trains, we confidently jumped on our coach, tickets stamped, ready for Bologna. After kicking someone out of “our” seats, we settled in to an apparently all-english-speaking coach. We were surrounded by tourists, heading south, clutching their “Rome” edition of Gourmet (just as we were). I feel bad for the sorry bastards who didn’t stop in Bologna for 2 meals as we did. About 20 minutes into the trip, we’re politely told by some tourists that we’re in *their* seats. It seems my confidence was a bit misplaced and premature. Apparently, this was not coach 1, but rather coach 4. I have no idea how that happened, as I even know how to count to eight in Italian by this point. But, this wasn’t a problem. I had a quick chat with the rightful owners of the seats about Columbia, SC, which was their hometown. Off we went to coach 1…the smoking car. Not only was coach 1 the smoking car, but it seems that everyone with sense enough to reserve a non-smoking car was coming in to smoke, and the seats next to us were apparently designated by some smoking-god to be the seats where everyone should smoke. Now, I’m an occasional smoker, but these trains are simply not ventilated enough to handle the amount of smoke produced by Italians and Japanese. I mention Japanese only because of the group of 4 Japanese guys who brought a liter bottle of whiskey on the train, who knew as well as I did that whiskey and cigarettes go well together, even at 10 am. They seemed to be having much more fun than yours truly. After lugging our luggage up the stairs of the train station in Bologna (are there no elevators!?!?!), and the luggage of another older couple (whose luggage was considerably heavier than ours), we jumped in a cab and arrived at the lovely Grand Hotel Baglioni. We were upgraded to an enormous suite that we normally couldn’t or wouldn’t afford. About 10 minutes after getting settled in, the construction crew on the rooftop outside our windows got started. The upgrade now made sense. But that has nothing to do with food, and we weren’t there to sleep anyway. As I sit in the hotel, unpacking and getting ready to wander out, I opened the camera. But you see, the film wasn’t done. I don’t know what came over me. I just opened it. Upon realizing my faux pas, I ran into the closet (luckily the closet was bigger than my kitchen) to undo what I had done. We ended up losing all of the pictures of the water taxi ride from that morning in Venice. I still haven’t recovered. And if you happen to see me on the street or at a bar or restaurant, there’s a good chance you’ll catch me in a moment of reflection, thinking about how stupid I am for opening the camera. And other times you’ll see me in a moment of reflection, thinking about how stupid I am for a host of other things. But that has nothing to do with food either. Trattoria Battibecco Via del Battibecco 4 39 051 223998 website We had no reservations in Bolgona, and I didn’t get a lot of info from the egullet threads. I did, however, read about Battibecco on one thread, and thought it sounded good. Off we went to walk around and grab lunch. We stumbled upon Battibecco basically by accident, and it looked pleasant and welcoming enough. But I wasn’t sure my t-shirt and jeans were going to go over very well. However, when I asked the fellow at the door if “this is OK”, pointing at my ensemble, and he brushed off my comment as if to say “please, not to worry, sit your ass down”, I knew we were in the right place. It should be noted that everyone else was dressed appropriately. Our young server didn’t speak a lick of English. Another server, sensing the chaos that would have ensued, rushed over to take care of things. Two glasses of refreshing prosecco were brought out. Having noted Craig Camp’s recommendation of Fattoria Zerbina wines, I scanned the list. Bingo. A 2000 Fattoria Zerbina Marzieno. The sommelier came over to help with the list, and I said that I already knew what I wanted, and confidently, but almost hesitantly, uttered my selection. He nodded knowingly, a big smile came to his face, and he said “BEST wine in the region”. He seemed very pleased with me. And I was very pleased with myself. Within a few minutes, the sommelier came by with glasses, the bottle, and a cart. He proceeded to check the glasses, check the bottle, and prime the glasses. I know some people hate the priming routine, but I appreciate it. Right around that point, I noticed that fruit fly that had been following us from Milan. Have I mentioned that fruit fly? It followed us to very single restaurant. I don’t know how it survived all of that smoke on the train. Maybe it was in the luggage. "Food please", you're saying: Tortellini in a light consommé. These little pillows of goodness were al dente, of course, and the consommé was just delicious. Fresh cheese was grated over the dish, and it was basically heaven in a bowl. Gramigna with sausage and artichoke. This dish was so perfect, that it’s hard to describe. The balance of ingredients, including the olive oil that dressed it, was perfect. Every bite was as good as the last. This pasta dish did not want you to move it all around, poking at different parts. It just wanted you to put your fork in, and put some in your mouth. This, without a doubt, was the best pasta dish I’ve ever had. I will no doubt order it again. Veal “Bolognese”. The name of this dish made me nervous, as did the description: veal with ham, cheese, and roasted tomato. Alas, this was not ham and cheese on veal. This was Italian ham and Italian cheese on, presumably, Italian veal. The tomato on the side was roasted to sweet perfection. Roasted tomatoes should be eaten more often. I’m doing my part on that front. Turbot with artichoke. A light dish, as I recall. Not many notes on it, but at this point, I knew this meal needed less notes and more eating. The sommelier came around mid-meal to ask if everything was OK. When I said yes, he quickly offered “and with this wine, you cannot make any mistake”. He stuck around and we talked about wines for a while. Of course, I don’t remember a thing he said, although I do remember him suggesting that I should try to find a 98, as it was a good year for this wine. I did a few days ago at Otto in NYC, and it was a bit tannic. But that’s neither here nor there. The staff was extremely gracious, and as we thanked them on our way out, they said that the pleasure was all theirs. Even if it wasn’t, they sounded sincere, and that's just good business in my book. All-in-all, this was probably our favorite meal on the trip. I look forward to returning for dinner. 129 euro. After the meal, I decided to temp fate and take on the Torre degli Asinelli. This is the highest tower in Bologna. I forget the exact number, but there are somewhere around 500 steps in this tower. And they are very dodgy. Along with getting fatter and more out-of-shape in recent years, a bit of claustrophobia and fear of heights have snuck in as well. This is not the place to go if you suffer from any of those afflictions. However, getting to the top is quite satisfying, and the view of the city is incredible. But going down is no fun either. As we made our way around town, we stopped in an enoteca. Who’s standing there to greet us but the sommelier from Battibecco. We had no idea who he was when he first greeted us, but then remember. I asked what he was doing there, and he said, “well, buying wine!” I asked if the place was good, and he said it was the best in Bologna. We didn’t buy anything, but they did have a great selection of vinegars and olive oils, as well as wines. I think it was called Enoteca Italiana, and I think this is the website.
