Rattle Those Pots

August 16, 2004

Ciao, amici.

Ferragosta = Ghost Town
Yesterday was Ferragosta (Feast of the Assumption), and even though we knew many businesses would close for the rest of the month, it’s startling how empty everything is, other than the tourist center. It makes us long for September 1 when things start to crank up again. The streets are completely deserted, and at this point we can’t even find a Herald Tribune (English language paper published by NYT). Not a biggie, just interesting.

Prima volta per Trippa
I tried my first tripe at Il Magazzino (neighboring trattoria) last night, and am pleased to say A) I didn’t get sick, and B) I actually liked it a lot. It’s a little like veal, texture-wise, and the flavor was pretty mild. They made it with a delicious tomato and basil sauce, with some fresh parmesan on top. Glad I didn’t see that the inside looks remarkably like one of those sheepskin carseat covers until today…

The funny part was that Luca, one of the waiters (the fellow who “rescued” me in the bathroom during my fracas with the Emergency Pull Cord), was filling in for Paolo, the chef who was on vacation. Luca, we came to learn, has apparently had quite an issue with us ordering tagliatelle (just a very simple—but good—pasta dish) too often. So when ordering time came, he came out from the kitchen in his chef’s jacket and just hovered over us at the table, hands on hips, ready to veto one more order for tagliatelle. He told our server in Italian that he would refuse to make us any more. So when we ordered tripe, he nodded once, hands still on hips, and said, very firmly, “Bene. Si. Non tagliatelle!” and marched back to the kitchen. I felt like Seinfeld’s Soup Nazi had just given us a dressing down.

We subsequently learned that since they specialize in tripe and we hadn’t had any yet, they thought we were sort of a weird ticket (“loco stranieri”; crazy foreigners). Luca lingered outside the kitchen door shooting withering glances in our general direction while we tried each dish; I was very, very relieved that we liked the tripe, and were not summarily banned from the trattoria for the remainder of our stay.

We had a fun little moment the day before that in the trattoria. Vieri, the bluegrass fan, was playing Elvis during the afternoon lull before dinner. Thom and I went in for a glass of wine, and wound up dancing just a little bit to “Blue Suede Shoes.” Had ourselves quite a bit of fun, and they seemed to get a big kick out of it. We’re still so amused that there’s so much American music everywhere.

Merda di Piccione
I’ve read that Florentines eat pigeon, but haven’t yet seen it listed on a menu here, so I can’t vouch for it. If that really is the case, though, I may have to try a pigeon dish just for spite: Thom and I were walking along on a sidewalk heading back to our apartment yesterday afternoon when I heard a loud “Splat!” and realized a pigeon had decorated the sidewalk—but the bulk of it had splattered on my leg and skirt. Mi piace uccidere piccioni ora. (I now like to kill pigeons.) Not really the city welcome I as hoping for, but Thom got a big chuckle out of my trials. Again. We’re told by sympathetic Florentines that I now have “good luck.” We’ll see.

Una Scuola
We start orientation for school on September 2-3, and are eager for that to arrive. We’re thinking of taking a trip up to one of the hill towns this week (assuming any of the bus drivers are still in town), so I’ll write of any adventures (or misadventures).

Il Televisione
Is it just me, or are people only showing very bizarre events at the Olympics this time around? Where is Gymnastics? And Track and Field? How about Swimming? All we see are riveting events like Men’s Synchronized Diving (???—didn’t even know that was an event), Men’s 10-Meter Air Pistol, and something involving some sort of pancake-shaped thing that I can’t even place. We finally realized that maybe these are the particular sports in which Italians excel. Um, since it’s our host country and we are guests, I won’t make a Top Ten, although this is begging for one…

Il Felice Fare Bagni di Sole Italiani (The Happy Sunbathing Italians)
And speaking of interesting water sports, yesterday we were walking along the Arno, and noticed a place that runs diagonally across the river. Half of it is covered by a small waterfall, but the other half is dry. On the dry half, we noticed a dozen or so folks just sprawled out in swimsuits sunbathing. We took a few pictures, and on closer inspection, noticed that a couple of the groups had fellows with fishing poles at work. This was still sort of a chuckler, since they’re all splayed out on a cement beach, basically.

But the punchline came when we noticed that two of the fishermen’s tiny white Speedos were not, in fact, Speedos. Now *that* was funny. Thom got a couple of pictures for posterity that we’ll send, when we finally get them on Ofoto or set up our page. One is laugh-out-loud funny. I don’t know that I thought I’d ever see a fisherman strolling around on a makeshift cement beach in his underwear. The impatient hand on hip while the sunglasses-wearing fisherman waited for a bite only added to the visual. I was thinking up all sorts of taglines if this ever runs as a Hanes ad.

Nothing else to report from here. Charlie has adapted, and likes his long walks. The prosciutto routinely offered from friendly hands outside of restaurant back doors has rapidly helped his adjustment, I’m sure.

August 17

Finally went to Mercato Centrale today. It was amazing! So many, many things to see, and everybody is pretty free with the samples, so that was a lot of fun. We came back with a really different prosciutto, focaccia, marinated red and yellow peppers, marinated artichoke hearts, great radishes, an enormous hunk of parmesan — which was “piccolo” (small) to the very nice cheesemeister, I guess — and a bunch of other good fixins. They also have several smaller cafes in the market itself, so I had tasty asparagus gnocchi out in the market square for lunch, and Thom had a nice ham and cheese panino.

We saw — but did not come back with — many cow tongues, pig snouts, all sorts of cow stomachs (tripe, lamprodetto, etc.), intestines, and a few things I couldn’t imagine just yet.

After the market, we swung by the school since it’s so close. We figured they might be closed but decided to try, and successo! Some of the chefs and staff were there setting things up. We were unannounced and unfortunately seemed to be interrupting their coffee break in a courtyard, but they were welcoming and gracious.

One of the chefs, Duccio, gave us a hearty “Bene! I will tour you!” I chuckled to myself at first while he showed us the school — until I realized that his English was much, much better than my weak Italian. Duccio answered a bunch of questions we had, and really put us at ease. He said that he had chefed in a restaurant with his two parents, but since they were getting older and his wife was “now expecting another little Duccio,” he had decided to teach, at least while the little Duccios were still “piccoli bambini.”

Another bonus I didn’t expect is the neighborhood around the school. It’s not only a stone’s throw from the Mercato Centrale, but there are all sorts of shops, little hole-in-the-wall restaurants, and mini-street markets in the neighborhoods surrounding it. It looks like that will give us all sorts of new things to explore. The neighborhood where our apartment is, Oltrarno, is about 20 minutes from school, and we found out today that their director lives not far from us.

I’ve been advised to volunteer for all sorts of outside projects with the instructors, so at this point I’m planning to do that once we’re up and running. Since they’re all chefs, it’s apparently wise to hitch on not only for the experience and fun, but for the contacts and (hopefully, if I don’t screw up) references they could provide.

That’s it for now, except….the gas for our stove at home is finally on! We’re molto felice, and making our own little caffes and pasta dishes at home sometimes now. Progresso!

Take care, everybody.

Tanti baci,

Jen