Our first club experience since the hazy nights of Las Vegas was memorable for what didn't happen: I was not the guy dancing on the table, we didn't end up at In-N-Out, and Lil' Jon was nowhere to be heard on the DJ's playlist (WHAT? OK! LET'S GO NOW! Whooo). On the plus side, I realized that my previous desire to button the top three buttons of a shirt was unwarranted, Melissa Ethridge has a surprising second life in European house music, and bottle service universally equates to a good time.
We've been quite busy handing over our civil liberties to the local authorities. Legally getting settled has required birth certificates, financial records, fingerprints, and stem cell contributions. Eat, Pray, Love made no mention of such sacrifices. However, in the course of our roommate surrendering her privacy she was served homemade sweets by the Italian postal service, so I guess it all evens out. The USPS should double the price of postage as a means of stimulating post office morale via baked goods for customers with the added benefit of eradicating junk mail.
Elsewhere on the food racketeering front, Tuesday was Free Cannoli Day at the gym. Seriously. Despite our confusion (Seriously?), protests (No!), and pleas (We come to the gym to cope with the bodily impact of your pastries), it was impossible for us to leave without two cannolis rivaling the size of the Subway sandwiches that made Jared so skinny. It was like an AA meeting serving Manhattans (up) instead of coffee. Rush Limbaugh, an ardent supporter of the Twinkie-diet, would have been impressed.
Though I was without my camera, the scene was oddly similar to this image:
“Thanks for working out with us this afternoon! Now eat this, feel guilty, and come back in an hour.”
After sampling liberally seasoned cow intestines (stigghioli), we are one step closer to the fried spleen sandwich (panne con la milza). The texture was on par chewing gum with the flavor profile of blackened steak. Though we won't be attempting to reproduce the dish at home, our Sicilian street cred got a boost. In the course of doing so, we witnessed the smartest street performance that we have seen thus far: a mobile DJ. He had a bike with a rickshaw-like attachment that housed his laptop and speakers. On a street crowded with outdoor restaurants, all he had to do was blow his whistle to announce that the party was about to begin. Then he'd wander through the tables dancing with his hat in hand for donations.  |
| Cow intestines consumed to the right |
Speaking of food, there has been some speculation as to our Thanksgiving plans. Oddly enough, the Italians are not celebrating this most American of holidays, so our celebration will be delayed until Friday. After pondering the potential of a Thanksgiving pizza (inspired by the “Bobby” from Capriotti's in Las Vegas: Ciabatta crust topped with cranberry sauce, stuffing, and roasted turkey) we settled on the following cross-cultural feast:
Butternut squash lasagna
Ciabatta stuffing with Italian sausage, chestnuts, and pancetta
Chestnut gnocchi
Roasted, potentially mashed, potatoes
Lemon turkey tenderloins
Poached pears in honey, ginger, cinnamon syrup, and brandy (thanks, Martin!)
Cranberry sauce with a hint of Campari
Have a wonderful time shaking your head at the tragedy of the Detroit Lions, stimulating the dollar on Black Friday, and taking a tryptophan induced nap. We are especially missing home today, but we are incredibly thankful for the love of our family and friends.
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| Teatro Massimo |
