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It's not easy being a food writer. All that eating and drinking can be tough work.
To prove how hard I have it, I kept a journal for asap while on assignment recently in Italy for a food festival. Hey, stop throwing things — you in the back!
I am told Italy has art and history. I prefer to experience it through my stomach. You can keep you paintings and sculptures and architecture. I just want a full belly.
I warmed up in Boston with one last look at the American version of Italian food — from the airport's Sbarro. Gut-sinking. But onward and upward. Or rather, upward and onward.
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Sunday, 9:29 p.m. — Over the Atlantic
Overheard during dinner service:
Flight attendant: Chardonnay or Cabernet Sauvignon?
Passenger: What's the difference?
Flight attendant: One is red. One is white.
If you have to ask, should you really be drinking?
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Monday, 1:20 p.m. — Coffee bar at gas station (they all have them) outside Milan
"Uno espresso, per favore."
Intense pride at completing an entire transaction in Italian. Two years of lessons finally put to use. Now had energy to continue white knuckle-drive to our rental flat two hours away.
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Monday, 7:45 p.m. — Cuorgne
Sad to see McDonald's in this remote town. Pizzeria near our flat passable — and all we have the energy to find. Leave a bit bloated and a lot blotto.
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Tuesday, Noon — Turin
Europe's largest outdoor market — Porta Palazzo in Piazza della Republica. A cacophony of zucchini, grapes, chestnuts and people shouting about them. "Due kilo, due Euro!" Scents of parsley, tomatoes and rotted fruit complete the sensory overload.
Nevertheless, scale of market unimpressive. Unsure how it earned its reputation.
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Tuesday, 1:20 p.m. — Turin
Of the several drinks made famous by this city — Vermouth among them — the bicerin is most appealing. Hot espresso blended with chocolate and topped with cool frothed cream. We enjoy ours at Caffe Confetteria al Bicerin, which is famous for it. They've been serving it since 1763 to the likes of Alexandre Dumas and Puccini.
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Tuesday, 3 p.m. — Turin
Caffeine from bicerin wearing off. Hit Caffe Mokita at Piazza san Carlo for a fine cappuccino. Who has time for real food when there is coffee and chocolate?
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Tuesday, 4 p.m. — Turin
Stratta in Piazza san Carlo, one of Italy's most famous chocolate shops. Their turneis (chocolates filled with chestnut cream and rum) are mouth-searing. Two would get me drunk.
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Tuesday, 4:15 p.m. — Turin
Confetteria Avvignano is every Christmas/Nutcracker fantasy come true. The giaduia (a blend of chocolate and hazelnut) melts into creamy lushness. Outside, cafes spill into the streets and the city smells of chocolate, coffee, bread and roasted chestnuts. Candied chestnuts are a regional (and seasonal) specialty. The outside is flowery sweet; the inside is dry and chewy.
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Wednesday, 4:14 p.m. — Martigny, Switzerland
On a whim, we aim our shoe box of a rental car toward the Alps (a tantalizing hour away). Driving the Alps feels like a cliche. Cows really wear cowbells. Despite scenic vistas, neither of us is inspired to hike, ski or otherwise exert ourselves beyond finding the next cafe.
Lunch is cappuccini and panini of salumi and formaggio in Aosta, an Italian border town. Really wanted gelato, but two days of all sweets a bad idea. Drool over shop that sells nothing but fresh pasta of innumerable shapes, sizes and colors. Why don't we have these in the United States?
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Wednesday, 10 p.m. — Cuorgne
Tackling the Alps leaves us too tired to drive far for dinner. Da Mauro's, a family sort of place near our flat, provides a breathtaking first course of pasta. Gnocchi that are meltingly soft. Bathed in a rich cheese sauce, they are what pasta was meant to be.
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Thursday, 11:45 p.m. — Alba
We spend much of the day munching our way through a food festival. Faced with many tough decisions. Nibble this bit of well aged Parmesan or that bit of succulent chocolate torte? Or perhaps both with some brilliantly expensive wine?
Dinner sponsored by Slow Food, an international organization based in Italy that works to promote and preserve local, handcrafted foods. This meal is at Osteria dell'Arco in Alba, an hour southeast of Turin.
We start with a plate of breathtaking soft cheeses and cured meats paired with one of the region's formidable Chardonnays — crisp, fruity and lively. A superior bisque of chicken and tomato seasoned with anise and marjoram follows. Next, a delicately roasted guinea fowl wrapped in lardo (bacon minus the meat) and encrusted in sea salt. Wonderful stuff. More cheese follows, then dessert, a sponge-like cake of walnuts and fennel. By the final course (and fourth or fifth glass of wine), my notes are mostly useless.
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Friday, 12:30 a.m. — Alba
Though stuffed, we realize we have been in Italy four days and have yet to enjoy gelato. We stop at a cafe for a cup of creme and cioccolato. Later, we take a break in Piazza Carlo Felice for a bicerin, cappuccino and creme gelato.
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Friday, 10 p.m. — Turin
Bamboo. Grown in Italy. For dinner.
Not sure what I was thinking. I signed us up for a tasting lecture on edible bamboo by a guy who decided Italy was the perfect place to cultivate it. Watching bamboo grow (it can do a meter a day!) would have been more exciting. We ate it raw. We ate it boiled. We ate it stuffed, steamed and wrapped. Even pulverized into a pate. The only preparation we liked was the dehydrated chunks sauteed with pork. We suspect it was the pork we liked.
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Saturday, 9 p.m. — Alba
The streets are filled with couples and families shopping and socializing. Cafe tables line the pedestrian avenues. Wine is sipped and crostini munched. We joined them for a glass of Barbere d'Alba — an assertive and fruity local red — and a predinner cheese panino.
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Saturday, 11 p.m. — Alba
The restaurant where we'd hoped to have our final dinner was packed. We ended up at the crowded Rinomata Pizzeria in Piazza Elvio Pertinance. The service was lousy, but the pizza with salumi piccante was superb. And by the time I'd polished off the better part of another local red, the service seemed irrelevant.
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Sunday, 1 p.m. — Aboard KLM Flight No. 1624, Milan to Amsterdam
The bacon, lettuce and tomato panini the airline serve seem the wrong way to end such a gastronomic orgy. But the airport in Amsterdam has a cafe that serves a fine warm brie and tomato on baguette. Hmm... Paris, anyone?
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asap columnist J.M. Hirsch covers food, diet and nutrition for the AP. E-mail him at
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