Text 37345, 139 rader
Skriven 2010-05-04 00:38:00 av MICHAEL LOO (1:123/140)
Ärende: more trip 95
====================
After a tour of the grounds, we decided to go back and see
the rest of town. We parked at the (now found) station lot
and did the random walk thing, during which I think we
covered most of the points of interest, including a plaza
where most of the stalls had a roast pig. Lilli has some nice
pictures of a 1305 campanile but none of the piazza of
porchetta, where the wares looked dry and unappetizing
compared to the German offerings we'd shared last year. There
was one stall that was selling for 30c more an etto than
the others, and I noticed people buying from this one and
not the others, so I was tempted in retrospect to try it,
but it was nearly dinnertime, and we thought we'd go to an
interesting-looking eatery we'd passed on the way downtown.
The Osteria Nome Dimenticato (don't try looking this up)
was easy to find; it looked a little bedraggled and empty,
but the vibe was good. We had a half carafe of quite fine
draft Frascati and a half of the local red, which was, er,
acceptable.

A family place, with the cook's children running around
while the parents tried to do restaurantly things; two
hired help to deal with the tourists. A forno out front
(but not antico nor a legno). We were seated by the dining
room window as befits an attractive pair of tourists, an
advertisement for the wares, as it were.

For starters, we split an order of bucatini amatriciana,
which had way too much pecorino for me but was otherwise
delicious, followed by a fairly nice if chewy bistecca
of a bit over a pound - a sensible portion for the two of
us. For dessert, some kind of whipped cream mess with some
chocolate and a crunchy pastry with caramelized sugar base.

By the time we left, the place had filled up, a long table
to our side with a multilingual group that reminded us of an
FT gathering, the rest with natives including some of the
local gendarmerie.

A moonlight tour of town (not much light) to settle our
stomachs. I didn't see much.

Half a carafe isn't enough for a full buzz, so we returned
to the hotel and had drinks at the bar - these cost almost
as much as dinner and wine had down the hill. Lilli tried
the local red (similar to but not as good as at the
restaurant), and I a Heineken, apparently the only beer
endorsed by the Salesian Brothers, here at least.

The bartender (the last waiter from the restaurant down 
the hall) kept pacing around hoping for us to leave, even
though the bar is supposed to be open until midnight.
When we suggested that we might finish our drinks in
the hotel lobby, he lit up like a Christmas tree. 

With a heavy head and light heart I retired to my cubiculum,
where the bed was small but comfy.

Next day, after a good breakfast buffet and a jaunt through
the local woods (in which sits a nice 17th-century church),
we resumed our journey. Our first stop was Monte Porzio
Catone, where we toured the small but charming wine museum
(Museo Diffuso del Vino), with its odd assortment of wine
labels, Spumante-making equipment, and old farming tools.
A display of Fascist and Communist wine labels was amusing;
more so was the presence of a horde of tiny schoolchildren,
whose presence in a wine museum in the US would have caused
consternation and perhaps intervention from the local
constabulary. We now know everything there is to know about
making cheap fizz out of surplus grape juice.

Included in the ticket was the city museum (they had to open
it for us special), where the tranquil history of the area
was spiced with some archeological treasures and illuminated
manuscripts that would be much admired elsewhere. At the end
there was the obligatory gift shop where I picked out a few
postcards. When I went to pay, the guide smiled and said,
gratis. Was it because I was the only non-Italian to sign
the guestbook in the last year? Or was it because of Culture
Week, or my charms, or the indubitable ones of my companion?

It was time for us to go on our way, and as Lilli had fully
mastered the car, we were soon at our intermediate stop
of Palestrina, a town built as so many were on Roman ruins;
in this case, the upper town covered a huge amphitheater
the reason for whose existence continues to fox theorists.
There's a ticket booth for the museum at the foot of the
ruins. I figured it would be ok to pay a few Euro for the
privilege, but the attendant just gave us our tickets -
owing to the Settimana della Cultura in the Comune di Roma
everything was free! We marveled at the ruins and went up
to the architectural museum, but as time was growing short
before our meeting with our friends Jim and Silvia, we
decided not to go in but rather to walk about the upper
town for a while. The town is a curious maze of stairs
and footpaths, and it was fun but exhausting to wend our
way through them. On the way down (had to ask at the
tourist office, where I bought more cards) we visited
the birthplace of the great eponymous composer. We didn't
seek out the home of the other "famous" musician of the
area, Petrassi, who was better known for being a Fascist
when it suited his career and a Communist when it suited
his career. Downhill is easier than uphill. Sadly, right
at 1300 we were kicked out of the alimentari where I
was about to purchase a nifty bottle of Brunello that I
was going to give Jim and Silvia for letting us stay at
their country place and that this store probably had been
hoping to unload for a decade. Back to the car, which was
still there despite Lilli having parked it Italian-style
in a blatantly illegal spot, at my cajoling. And on to the
great city of Tivoli, whose traffic and crowding repulsed
us to the degree that after the tour-bus-ridden uphill
slog we just made a u-turn and returned down, gardens or
no gardens. It was lunchtime, and on the way up I'd spied
an interesting place, which we returned to: the restaurant
Riviera di Corallo, known for its seafood (bad choice for
Lilli, who disdains anything marine). We split an order of
spaghetti bolognese for starters, with which the red wine
Capocaccia 07 Isola dei Nuraghi (Sella&Mosca) went well,
despite its being too sweet, too overtly fruity, and too
pale. It went better with my rombo alla griglia, which to
me didn't seem to be like a real rombo but more like a
flounder type of thing, though it was kind of good. Lilli,
who had kept her options open by not ordering anything
else (part of why she keeps her nice figure, I suppose),
decided to join me. She asked if there was any Scamorza;
the waiter answered with an enthusiastic affirmative and
then returned with a cheese plate, which consisted of
olives (I ate all of these), some artistically arranged
salami, pretty good, and a couple wedges each of pretty
good aged Parmesan, that funny semi-soft stuff, supposed
to be imitation Jarlsberg, which you can get at Trader
Joe's, and what might have been scamorza except raw, bland,
and boring, not what one expected, which is melted like
saganaki. She was a good sport and ate much of it. I didn't
understand, but she's a cheese hound and I'm not.

___ Blue Wave/386 v2.30
--- Platinum Xpress/Win/WINServer v3.0pr5
 * Origin: Doc's Place BBS Fido Since 1991 docsplace.tzo.com (1:123/140)