my last italian meal for 2008

after blogging, i walk to find the girls. i can't find them, but i walk to find them. with that intent, at least. maybe they went on to catch the 51 boat from lido back to the venice train station. maybe they're hiding under an umbrella somewhere, enjoying a leisurely lunch on this leisurely street. regardless, i walk to find them. it is lunchtime, now, so, if i don't find them, i'll grab a bite at the end of the street.

i arrive at the end of the street, and haven't seen the girls. this place, from which i'm getting lunch, is just a little kitchen in a trailer that's parked on the side of the road with coolers flanking the bar and a seating area under a thatched roof. not big at all. yesterday, walking by, i saw these two delicious-looking sandwiches being handed across the bar. they looked like burgers, but, this is italy. there aren't burgers in italy.

i sit down at the bar. the guy to my right has a glass of water, and asks the waiter/owner/barkeep for a splash of wine in his water. odd, sure, but, when in rome, right? or venice, as the case may be. well, lido, more accurate...anyway, the waiter pulls a sandwich off the panini machine, halves it, sets it on a wooden plate, and then hands it to the guy. looks good.

"how's the panini?" the broken english answer i get back is that it's good. "what's on it?" a list of different things. "i'll have that. with everything." i wave my hand for effect, sweeping it through the air from below the bar to the sky. his eyes bulges. "everything?" he asks, incredulously. "sure, what the heck - just no tomatoes." "just three things," his grumpy partner in crime says from the meat slicer in the corner, with which he is using to slice tomatoes. "this boorger, real good-a. big-a." hmm.

i'm no advocate to eat good god-fearin' american comfort food abroad. that's not my style. and i want to punch everyone in the face who says, "i just couldn't wait to get to a mcdonald's." and not just once, either. but i start justifying this in my head. "burgers aren't really american - they're from hamburg, in germany. maybe it'll be alright. i mean, hamburguesas in mexico are nary similar to that which we enjoy in the states. besides, we're not clickin' on all cylinders here, our communication. give it a shot."

"alright! with everything - but tomatoes."

he breaks out a burger and throws it on the panini machine. then he sprinkles two different kinds of dried spices on it. he doesn't bring the top down to the meat. he pulls out a good-sized roll and cuts it. then starts to decorate it with vegetables. lettuce. onion. i think pickle too, but i don't remember. then he gets out the roll of mozzarella cheese and takes off three hunks. he drops them on the burger, then brings the top down so it's just millimeters away from the cheese. from the little fridge, he breaks out the ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise, squirting them individually on the other half of the bun. he promptly replaces them, then checks the burger. almost done. when it's ready, he sets it on the vegetables on the bun, then sprinkles the dried spices over it one more time. he closes it up, wraps it in a bright yellow napkin, sets it on a wooden plate, and hands it to me.

wow. i need to rethink my whole philosophy about american comfort food abroad. the flavors are so different. sure, the components are the same, but the flavors are different. much like the hamburguesas of mexico. the bread is something of legend, the condiments carry a sweeter flavor, and the cheese is not our traditional cheddar, something wildly different. simply different, but wildly different all the same. and that little sprinkle of dried spices? wow. this sandwich is simply...awesome!

but that whole mcdonald's thing? oh, yeah - right in the face!

but i'm a man on a mission. i have to find the girls. they might be at the gelato shop from yesterday. they know i'm going back. it's on the same side of the street, so i decided to scope out the restaurants along the way. to no avail, of course. but i did happen upon that gelateria with the home made gelato. i order up three scoops for my last gelato of the trip: cocco, stracciatella, and torrone. cocco, of course, 'cause it's my favorite, stracciatella, because the girls had it the day before and were raving about it, and torrone, the hazelnut toffee-ish one made, to my knowledge, only here.

i explained the deliciousness factor in a previous blog. i don't think i described the grittiness of the gelato that scraped gently across my tongue as i licked it off the top of my cone. or the sweetness of it all. how creamy it was. like homemade ice cream on a warm and humid summer's day. the nuts are crunchy and hard, a contrast with the creaminess of the rest. the toffee blending with it and the frozen dairy for a sumptuous flavor. the chocolate, obviously drizzled in before freezing to a crisp. and the perfectly flavored flakes of coconut and cream for one of the best treats i ever had.

i walked with it. then stood in the shade, watching young children play in the fountain. a baby girl, maybe three, stripped down to her bright blue knickers as she got herself soaked. the two boys with arms soaked o their shoulders. the parents hollering about, calling their names, setting them back in the right spot. that's where i stood, tasting my delicious final bites of my last meal in italy.

oh, yeah, the girls...i buy some water in the store on which i was leaning, turn to walk to the boat stop, and here they are. sitting there in sight from where i stood, eating my gelato whle they were finishing their last meal, wrapping it up with a sip of their final cappuccino...