Total Possibility

The Best Meal… Ever! (Legendary Meals- Conclusion) September 22, 2007

For the last few days, I have been reminiscing about three of the four “Legendary Meals” that I was fortunate enough to partake in during my time in Europe.  From that first one on the beach in Pescara, to the memorable Roman fare that Sunday in December, the sights and the sounds of each one of those meals, including topics of conversation, are as vivid as if they had happened yesterday.  I will take that Bolognese until the day I die!

For the last installment in this series (and you are either starving or tired of hearing me talk about food) I will tell you of the best and most memorable meal I ever had in my life.  Truly, the Legendary Meal.  I wish I could accurately put into words how wonderful this experience was, but there is simply no way to even approximate what happened that wonderful day.

It was just after Easter, and my best friend Tony and I decided that a little trip to Paris was in order.  Paris is a lovely city, don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.  The Parisians always helped me out if they thought I looked lost (possibly because I look German and maybe they thought I was trying to conquer them) (I had several simply surrendeder to me out of habit).  The city is clean and efficient- the people friendly (unless you butcher the language0 if you go just speak English)- the sights are breathtaking and the food is of course superb.

There are a lot of great stories about this particular trip, as it certainly had its ups and downs during the course of the week.  It turns out that another group of Americans from our college were also travling in Paris, and were staying in the same place we were.  So our groups melded and we ended up spending the week together touring the “City of Lights.”

Whether we ate baguettes from the store with some cheese, enjoyed the big bowls of coffee at the place we were staying for breakfast, or ate in a nice restaurant the food was always good. 

We did have to watch our budgets so we saved the nice place until the end.  One of the guys from the other group, Eric- a good man who once helped to save my life- said he knew of a place near the Church of St. Germain du Sulpisce.

We trusted him and went over- the night was cool as it was spring, and even a bit heavy with moisture.  When we walked into the restaurant it was like going to a whole new world.  It was like a little chalet in the middle of the bustling city of Paris.  It sort of reminded me of Frodo Baggins’ house in the first scene of Lord of the Rings. 

It was pristine in its decoration- it felt like we were eating at someone’s house.  Moreover, it felt like we were home!  That is how welcoming the people who owned and operated this place made us feel.  They treated us like kings, and Tony, Stephen, Eric, and myself all sat around this giant wooden table that you might see in some royal dining hall.  The sweet smell of the food cooking in the back filled the air.  There was only one other group of people there- a group of Parisians- so we knew we were in for a treat.

One of the things that made the dinner were, as I mentioned, the people who ran the establishment.  I really never got their names because of the accents, but they spoke wonderful english.  She was just so proud of the place that they had run for the past few years.  He was a rather tall and large man, not fat, just large.  They laughed a lot during our conversations- they were joyous people who loved each other and what they did for a living.  It came out in the food the served and the fact that they took some time to talk to us “ugly Americans.”

The food.

Oh the food.

There is no way to tell you what it was like.  We took the menu that they had prepared which turned out to be about a 5 course meal with appetizers salad and desert.  Really, there are two things worth mentioning specifically about this meal.

First was the fois gras- the patee.  Now perhaps the idea of goose liver doesn’t exactly make you salivate, but that just means you haven’t had the good stuff.  It came out on a little plate with three versions- each was so powerful and potenet in taste that it fill my entire head with flavor.  This is the hard part to describe- it seemed that rather than the flavor being in my mouth, I entered into the flavor.  It was sweet and sour in a perfect combination of the honey and the spices and the patee.

The other thing worth specifically mentioning was the steak.  The sauce on the steak again filled my head with flavor- it seemed that I entered into the experience of the steak itself.  The steak was tender and juicy and fell apart in my mouth.  It is as if the steak was making it easy for me to eat it!  Every bite was an experience.  (It was during this time that mad cow was being reported through France by the way, which may be the reason why I am why I am.  It was worth mad cow for this experience though.)

The wine was a deep red Cabernet that complimented the steak perfectly.  Our conversation was lively because of the fellowship we had from traveling together for the last week, and the fact this was our last night in Paris.  There was magic in the air that night- an unquenchable energy that is really indescribable.

Then from the other table of Parisians- a large group of about 20 or so, came over to our table.  It turns out that he was a professor from my university in Rome, the Gregorian University.  All of a sudden we were all in one large party of friends- the energy being contageous, the conversation fueled by good food, friendship, and of course wine.  The Parisians all spoke very nice English and were happy to converse with us.

It was so beautiful that one of us (not me, but I felt this way myself) began to tear up a little.  We didn’t deserve this, and we knew that what was going on was special.  I remember everything from that night- except the names of the people that owed the place- and the NAME of the restaurant.  I guess it is going to be like Brigadoon- something that only happens every few decades.

I am not sure any meal will ever come as close to this one- I entered flavor.  I still close my eyes and taste the fois gras and the honey.  I wish there were words to desribe this evening, but they have all fallen short of the true beauty that a dinner like this can bring.

Legendary Meal part 3 September 21, 2007

All this talk about food is making me hungry.  I ate whole box of pasta last night just thinking about yesterday’s post.  Maybe tonight, I’ll even cook it.  Crunchy.

      
Franco    

As I write about these Legendary Meals, I realized that I am writing them in order of lowest to highest quality.  That is sort of like testing a low end Mercedes, and then testing a high end Mercedes.  Really, it only gets better from here.

Of course living in Rome for as long as I did, I had some fantastic and memorable meals.  In fact, I can safely say that I only had two bad meals my whole time in Rome.  Even the Burger King was great. (Yes… I ate Burger King on occasion because it made me feel like I was home, well, except for the mayonnaise on the french fries.  Plus, it made me appreciate the Italian food even more.)  It will be fun to tell you about those two bad meals some time because I remember them as well.

Because there were so many good meals out in the city of Rome, to say that I had a meal of “Legendary” status is saying a lot.

It was a Sunday morning in late December, and we had mozied over to see the noon “Angelus” with Pope John Paul II.  That is still a tradition where the Pope comes to his window, says some things in a couple of languages, gives a blessing and says a prayer.  This happens every Sunday, unless the Pope is on vacation. (I hear he likes the Grand Canyon!)

I usually didn’t go to these audiences because you had to fight 10,000 other people who also wanted to see the pope from hundreds of yards away, but I had some friends over from the States, and everybody needs to see the Pope.  It is sort of like going to Disney World and not seeing Mickey… it is just something you have to do.

Because it was Sunday we were all dressed up in our best attire, and after the Angelus, we got hungry.  At the bottom of the Janiculum Hill (where I lived in Rome) was a little restaurant that I had been to many many times called Sor’eva. (Corner of Via Gregorio Settimo and Lungo Tevere if you are ever in Rome.  Tell Franco I said hello).

It is your typical trattoria with great food and great fellows working there.  We walked in and the Roman families had already filled the place up.  It was raucous and loud with all the families in there which added to the usually tranquil atmosphere of Sor’Eva.  There was an energy there because it was Sunday and because the Italians still have retained the utter importance of family.

The food that day was superb- it was always good, but this day there was something special.  The cannelloni was spectacular.  It melted in your mouth and had a bit of ginger or something in it to give it a little kick.  There was actually a sort of mixed pasta plate that was being served to everyone there that day.  The cook really outdid himself.  If I close my eyes, I can still taste the cannelloni.  That is one of the requirements for a Legendary Meal if you recall.

The atmosphere got louder as the wine was consumed.  Us being poor students, we could only afford the house wine, which of course was great, but the Romans were either drinking the good stuff, or actually brought their own! 

That is where the fun started- we weren’t the only ones dressed up- The Romans are fashionable people from birth to death and this day was no different.  All of a sudden all the tables began to talk to each other, whether they knew each other or not, and they didn’t leave us out of it.  We were all of a sudden being invited to share the good wine with the other tables- there was a mix of Italian and English being spoken, as the wine loosened everyone’s inhibition for language.  The whole restaurant- mostly Romans and us four Americans began to have lunch together in one huge party!  Even the waiters joined in!  The energy level in the room, already hightened by the families and the kids, good food and wine, rose exponetially!  You could have powered a small city!

Again, as all Legendary Meals, it was a timeless moment- a furious exchange of laughs and the clinking of glasses.  The Romans loved us and we loved them!  I was able to participate even more than my friends as my Italian by this point (with the help of some wine) was perfect.  We felt like Romans that day!

I have eaten at Sor’Eva a dozen times (or more) since that day in December of 2002.  I am friends with the staff, and they have some great and wonderful food and atmosphere.  If you are ever in Rome and near the Vatican looking for a place to eat, it is worth the extra couple of minutes of walking- go, especially if it is on a Sunday! 

Ask for Franco.

Legendary Meal part 2 September 20, 2007

In yesterday’s post I talked a little about my first legendary meal, on the beach in Pescara Italy.

Another legendary meal that I had was also in Italy.  A couple of friends of mine and I were traveling together through Bologna, Italy.  Bologna is known as the Citta’ Grassa, or “Fat City.”  I will tell you that I can understand why: it is some of the best food in Italy.  If I lived in Bologna, I would be dead in 2 weeks from over eating.

I had been staying in hostels and met up with my two friends who were coming from another part of Italy.  It was agreed that we would meet up in Bologna and have a little lunch then move on together with our travel plans.  I had stayed the previous couple of nights in a hostel that was one step above a maytag refrigerator box, so my dinner the night before consisted of newspaper clippings and some jelly.  I was ready for a good meal.

The three of us met in La Citta’ Grassa on a Sunday morning in front of the Duomo, which is what they call the Cathedral.  It was a beautiful day, even more so because it had rained the previous couple of days.  The sun was out, and it was bright but not overpowering.  It sort of felt like taking something out of the dryer and immediately putting it on.  It was a soothing warmth, like a constant embrace.

We decided after a couple of hours of walking around we would stop in somewhere and have a nice Sunday meal.  The stale roll from the hostel wasn’t holding me over ver well and I agreed.

We picked some place at random- and we won.  We sat there, 3 Americans in the middle of this side street restaurant. (Actually, the side street places always have better food.  Another little tip is to go where all the customers are speaking the native language.  That means it’s good.  If it is packed with Americans or other tourists… well it’s a touristy place.)

We sat and had the most delightful plate of antipasto- a mix of fresh meats and olives- the wine came out- a beautiful red from the region just outside of Bologna.  The mushrooms were potent and tasty- a delight. 

These two fellows were two of my best friends in seminary, and the conversation quickly ramped up.  The other great part was that by this point we all spoke Italian, so we brought the owners and staff into our conversation- there was always something strange about my Italian in Bologna by the way- I always spoke it impeccably there.  I don’t know why- I always spoke my best Italian in Bologna.

The first plate came out- a beautiful Bolognese sauce- not like what you get here- but full of meat, thick enough to stand a fork in.  The pasta was “al dente” and cooked to perfection.  I have never had a Bolognese sauce like it since… of course we were in Bologna after all!

In Italy, you can never sit for a quick meal, and as the Saltimbocca came out, then the salad (I think it was 6 courses in all) we realized that time had passed and we had been there for four hours!  We outlasted the Italians! Even the staff was ready to go home and enjoy their Sunday meal with their families- I am sure we were a nuissance after awhile.

We didn’t care though- there we were best friends enjoying a wonderful meal with great atmosphere- conversing, laughing, and bringing others into our celebration.  It was one of those timeless moments that I love to re-visit in my memory again and again- I can still taste the mushrooms and the Bolognase sauce…

Legendary Meal part 1 September 19, 2007

While I was living in Europe I discovered that food is a big part of the culture in just about every country.  Why was that such a discovery?  Food is important here too, but not like it is in Europe, especially in Italy where I lived.

In this country we have fast food restaurants, where they get you in and out, and it is more about getting something in the gullet than actually savouring the meal.  Even in the nicer restaurants they try to get you in and out as fast as they can, simply because they want to free the table up so they can make more money.  Food is important here, but I can say that in the 4 years I lived in Europe, I can only remember a handful of meals that weren’t always good.  I will say that when I get invited over to someone’s house for dinner it is always a great honor- that is where we usually get it right.

Then there are the “Legendary Meals.”  “Legendary Meals” are those meals that you will remember for a lifetime.  I have eaten a lot of meals in the states, and possibly only one ever fell into that category. (The Old James Tavern in Worthington, I had the best Prime Rib ever, May the James Tavern rest in Peace.)  Even though the food was good, the atmosphere and the company disqualifies it as a LM.

The qualifications of the Legendary Meal were very high.  The food had to be succulent.  The conversation and the company had to be memorable, and the atmosphere had to be perfect.  It has to be so memorable that I can close my eyes and remember the smells and the tastes as if it were yesterday.  I had 4 such meals while I lived in Europe.  Three in Italy and one in France.

The first legendary meal was wonderful.  Well, alright, they were all wonderful by definition!  It was the end of our first month in Italy, and we had the weekend to travel wherever time and money would allow us.  We decided to rent a car and drive to the east coast of Italy from Rome.

Three of my best friends and I drove to the town of Pescara which is right on the Adriatic Sea.  It was a nice little town- a resort in the summer, although all the tourists were now gone as it was October.

We looked for a place to eat, and we found only one of the many restaurants opened.  So we went in, and in our best broken Italian asked for a table.  He led us outside to a little platform on the beach where there was a table fully set waiting for us.

The wind was light, and there were only a few clouds giving some character to the sky.  The sun was bright and warm, and the temperature was perfect.  We literally sat just a few feet from the waves gently crashing into the shore.  I still remember the salt air and the sound of the surf.

A fellow named Georgio came out who was our waiter, and it turned out that he spoke perfect english as he had lived in Toronto, Canada for many years.  He regailed us with stories about Italy and living on the coast.  He offered us the special which was a huge pile of the most delicious fish I had every tasted.  Georgio pointed to a boat and said, “That is where the fish come from.”  Talk about market fresh!  The white wine was crisp and cool, and the banter between my friends was perfect.

I think we sat there for 3 or 4 hours.  It was a timeless moment. 

It is great how food can bring people together- I remember that day as if it were yesterday, and I can still taste the delightful mixture of fish, wine,  salt, sun, and friends, old and new.