Some recent changes in Italian law make me sad (both courtesy of CNN):

"We found St. Mark's Square a bit lonesome since officials passed an ordinance in April banning tourists and locals from feeding the pigeons that used to flock to the piazza by the thousands. (The birds' filth was blamed for damaging the city's facades and monuments.) Still, no visit to Venice is complete without a stop here."

Right on the heels of this, in July:

"Cappuccino by the Trevi Fountain? Gelato on the Spanish Steps? Such small delights have run afoul of the guardians of Rome.

A ban on snacking is in effect at some of Rome's famous sites, including the Spanish Steps.

City Hall has banned snacking near its famous monuments in the historical center. Violators face an $80 fine."

Some of our best memories during our March visit to Italy were seeing the pigeons in San Marco in Venice. Vendors would sell little bags of bird seeds, and the greedy birds flocked to anyone foolish enough to buy them. Walking was nearly impossible as the fat, complacent things blocked our steps (Sean even kicked one by accident). My favorite memory was shooting a picture of Japanese photographers shooting male Italian fashion models in expensive suits with pigeons flying around them.

And my visit to Rome would not have been complete without a visit to the Spanish steps to eat a gelato, a la Audrey Hepburn in "Roman Holiday." 

We took a quick subway ride over and found the closest gelateria to place our order. We'd ordered a one-scoop gelato in Venice for about 2 Euros, so felt like pros and didn't even ask the price as we ordered two scoops. We were presented with two scoops of hazelnut and chocolate, all fancied up with "razzle dazzle": streamers, cookies and fancy twizzlers. The price? 20 Euros (about $30 American dollars at the time). Needless to say, we gulped, paid up for the melting ice cream and enjoyed every single bit of that gelato. I still say it was the best ice cream I had in Italy. Sean says it better have been. 

Lunch with the Chef

With all the excitement of last week's fire, our excellent dinner at Pastel, crafted by Chef Philippe Chin, was overlooked. The best thing about his menu is that it was short--to me a prix fixe menu is the best because you don't have to decide between 20 things that sound great--and everything that he cooks is always so good. I fell in love with his Japanese crab salad (served so beautifully on a rounded, rectangular crackly turquoise plate with a thick black and gilt rim) and sweet strawberries swimming in a vanilla cream sauce for dessert.

So what a treat it was when we sat down to lunch at Manuel's Bread Cafe in North Augusta to have Chef Chin and one of his friends join us at the next table. Sporting black rubber clogs with white polka dots and pink, blue and yellow rimmed glasses, he looked completely cool, and still so French.

Some choice tidbits from our conversation:
Pate: "You like pate? Next time I make it, I'll call you!" Love him!

On making pate: "The best place to buy chicken livers is Gurleys on Walton Way." (Note: We actually recently purchased some chicken liver at Publix--where they were nice enough to split a package for us--and it was sooo good. I fell in love with Florentine crostini when we were in Italy, and we recreated it--basically a loose pate served on crusty bread.)

On trying something different: We were talking about Asian grocery stores and he mentioned a kind of egg that has a small chicklet inside instead of a yolk. According to Chef Chin, it's delicious and tastes like chicken and scrambled egg when you cook it. His friend said, "I think I'd rather eat chicken and scrambled egg."

On Japanese mayo (which he mixed with his crab salad and swears is the best): "Next time your mama goes to the Asian store, tell her to buy this for you. It's in a bottle that's shaped like a baby bottle."

On our interest in looking at open houses in Hammond's Ferry: "You don't want to buy one of these. You're not yuppie enough!" I like that he considers us cool and not straights!

As we left, he was talking about ideas for his new ventures (all I will reveal is the words dim sum--I hope he really does this!) and still enjoying the beautiful breezy day, sitting there sipping his white wine, glasses perched on his nose and hair rakishly combed back. Can you tell I'm a fan?

Italian Days

Italy's been on my mind the past few days. It's been about six months since our trip, a couple of our friends have asked for our recommendations for their upcoming trip, and I have a story due for a local magazine. So here's a little excerpt from my journal, chronicling our favorite city, Venice: 

Wandering the streets of Venice with a map in your pocket, but ignored, lets you come upon small surprises everywhere. Suddenly an open square lies before you with a singing gondolier beckoning you for a ride, or suddenly a perfect Italian picture--a grandmother all in black holding a cane, entering her home against a backdrop of salmon-colored stucco. Or, a sculpture of a pig flashes its genitals at you. You never know what lies within these narrow alleyways, with their in-leaning houses. 

We really did see a statue of a pig for sale, lolling on his back and flashing everyone who walked by. It was fun sitting at a nearby restaurant eating delicious seafood risotto and watching all the doubletakes of tourists as they walked by the shop window. 

Having Cake and Eating It Too

I looked up gift traditions for a fourth anniversary a few weeks ago. Traditional couples give each other flowers and fruit, while modern couples are stuck with traditionally unromantic appliances. Us? We wanted it all. Raspberries sandwiched between the light creamy yellow layers of our anniversary cake (a recreation of the top layer of our wedding cake, our always anniversary tradition), a Nintendo Wii because there's nothing more romantic than seeing your significant other doing the butt shake while trying to hula hoop in virtual reality, and to top it off, a weekend trip to Charleston, the location of our first trip away together.

Our anniversary dinner (yes, that too, because we're that spoiled) was at Casa Bella in Aiken, the beautiful house inside the door in the wall. It was a reminder of our trip to Italy back in March. We became the special anniversary couple that night, arriving all dressed in our finest work attire, carefully carrying our white cake box. The wine was Chianti, poured in balloon glasses. The appetizer, antipasto, richly drizzled in olive oil and eaten with a small Italian loaf.
The kitchen had run out of soup, but somehow, two special bowls of the hearty split pea, a bright grass green against the white cappucino cups it was served in, were brought to us. An amazing osso buco, with a marrow fork standing at attention in the bone, came nestled in a bed of linguine, and a true veal saltimbocca rounded out the savory part of our dinner.

The cake had been whisked away to the kitchen the moment we arrived, so we worried in a desultory way...what if they lost it? What if it had been swiped off the counter and into a heap on the floor by a quickly moving waiter? What if our waiter Cory tripped while carrying it out to us?

No worries. Cory served it with a flourish and as we filled in the corners nicely with Jennifer Saxon's fresh delicious creation, we remembered past anniversaries, particularly one where the couple next to us pointed at our cake and told their waiter, "We want to order THAT." How La Maison, our usual anniversary restaurant, would miss seeing us this year and how we missed their serving the entrees covered, then delicately whipping off the covers with an "Un, deux, trois!" And a very small bow.

We left with the remainder of our cake and most unItalian carryout boxes, and the same deliciously full feeling we had nearly every night in Italy. Casa Bella is our new favorite Italian trattoria, and the weekend is just beginning.