Monday, 21 September 2015

Ham and cheese

If there's one thing I've learned this week as I've travelled along the Via Emilia (well, caught the train near the Via Emilia, you get the picture. By the way, have you caught an Italian train before? Nope? Here's a tip: validate your ticket) it's that Italian cities of a certain size are all pretty much the same. The old city walls have been replaced with a leafy boulevard of a ring road. Inside the city walls are winding, cobbled streets full of houses of varying shades of orange with lots of shutters. There's a noisy square dominated by al fresco dining and a quiet square dominated by in-frescoed basilicas. There are people walking dogs, leads boobytrapping across the road. There are cafes that think not only is espresso an acceptable form of coffee but that it is also an adequate alternative to breakfast.

I guess it makes writing guide books pretty difficult, which maybe explains why Lonely Planet had to resort to this nonsense:

"If Italy were a meal Modena would be on the main course."

Really, you'd have Modena for main rather than Rome, or the Lakes? Or Tuscany? Or the Amalfi Coast? I had Bologna for my main and thought that Modena was a somewhat disappointing dessert. A creme brulee where the top wasn't fully crisp. And don't get me started on:
"If reincarnation ever becomes an option, pray you come back as a Parmesan."

So yeah, Rimini (albeit briefly), Modena (where it was strangely difficult to get a good meal, given the town's foody rep), Reggio Emilia (my favourite of the four, although that probably says more about me) and Parma. All nice enough, all a bit difficult to get excited about.

But we are here for the food right? The parmesan and the parma ham? I've made a fair crack at eating all of the food, but have had to resort to pizza more than I intended.

Tigelle - disappointingly small sandwiches.

Tortellini en brodo - epitome of student food. M'eh. 

Gnocco - one of the more curious 'specialities' that I've come across. Deep fried dough that puffs itself up like an empty ravioli, so that you can fill it yourself. Basically a sandwich that leaves you with oily fingers and fuzzy arteries.

Pesto do cavallo - horse tartare to the unwary. Not sure whether this is actually a thing but it was nice enough.

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