Bologna

Saturday Omri and I took the train to Bologna. Omri is a classmate of mine from Israel,  and since we had heard there was good eating in Bologna, we went. The train ride was only an hour, and I am so glad we went!

In terms of things to do in Bologna which are touristy, there really aren't many. It has a duomo which isn't as nice as some other cities' duomos, it has some towers (we climbed one, this picutre is of me at the top), the museums aren't great, and this meant that besides walking around to get a feel for the city, all we needed to do was eat.

And I would say we succeeded at eating. The day before in school had been all bread and pastries, and both of us were feeling a bit stuffed from all of that, so we decided to do a picnic lunch. The picnic was inspired entirely by this window display in a cheese shop of something that looked wondrous and unique and amazing. Yes, that is gorgonzola aged 12 months, to the point where it has turned brown. We got a bit of that as well as some fresh bread and prosciutto (after all, we were less than 2 hours from Parma, where the most famous prosciutto in the world is made).

When we opened up the cheese from the butcher's paper, we were both a bit dubious. It had a lot of dark colors in it, and we could smell it very easily. I placed a chunk on my piece of bread and inhaled the astringent pungency. I smiled at Omri, "buon appetito!" and took a bite. At first my reaction was revulsion, then I was overwhelmed, and then I noticed all the different flavors in it. The aftertaste was actually great, and I felt ready to try another bite. I didn't quite finish the part I had grabbed (about 1/4 or 1/5 of the total we got) but I made it most of the way and enjoyed it. However, it was so insanely strong that it really needed accompaniments, such as a strong glass of wine, a steak, and/or some very rich fruit. The cheese by itself was too much to handle. Omri didn't get through more than three bites.

The prosciutto was amazing. It was sweet and savory, you could taste an earthy woodsiness to it, and I need to get more of that.

After lunch we walked some more, and eventually we were tired again and hungry since we had only eaten a half meal with our picnic, and so we stopped at this place that looked fun and good on a street full of restaurants. Omri and I both thought one thing on the menu sounded best, and so we ordered it. It looked like this (sorry for the blurriness):

These are pumpkin tortelini with a balsamic-pancetta sauce. These are the best things I've put in my mouth since getting to Italy, and they definitely compete with many of the things I had here on my first trip over the summer. They were sweet on the inside, with a thick pasta to give the dish some bite, and the sauce was rich, creamy, and earthy without being at all acidic, despite the balsamic. You couldn't pick out the flavor of the pancetta either, but the whole was so much more amazing than any of the parts could possibly have been that I wouldn't want to have tasted any of the individual elements.Omri and I spent the rest of the day discussing this pasta dish, and exactly how it was done, exactly what could have been done better (the plating--this was a plate of lumpy brown), what made this dish the best ever, and I just kept laughing because I was so happy.

I asked for the recipe from one waiter, and he said, "sorry, its a secret." So I asked the female waitress, who at first explained that it was squash puree inside pasta with a bacon and balsamic sauce. I explained that that part was on the menu, and what else was in the sauce? Did it have any cream in it, because it was very "cremoso". She had to go back and ask the cook, and explained to us that there was both broth and the "tiniest bit" (pizzico) of cream, and that that was it. While the flavor and texture makes me think it was more than the tiniest bit of cream, the color would say otherwise. In the end, I don't really care. I need to figure out how to make these so I can have them all the time. I think I might email the restaurant for more information about this dish, if I can actually get it. I might actually go back to Bologna for this dish (though probably not, the train tickets weren't that cheap). For anyone who is wondering, the restaurant is Clive T Bistrot and Wine Bar, Via Clavature 17/c, Bologna.

So how can you follow that kind of meal? Yet both of us had passed one place on the way to this restaurant that we needed to visit. This was Roccati, a native Bolognese artisan chocolate shop, and the two of us had to get something. We split a soft chocolate bar (sort of like hard fudge) that had three layers: one of dark chocolate, one of pistachio white chocolate, and one of hazelnut milk chocolate. Was it fabulous? Yes. These guys know how to make good chocolate. I'm almost glad I didn't go to school in Bologna, because I would not have been able to resist these places and would be eating way too much! I guess that makes it a good thing that I haven't found equivalents in Florence (yet).....