Tag Archives: Drink

Some restaurants I should have mentioned

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Of course, since the ‘tidy up’ of the kitchen, I am no longer ‘allowed’ to have random bits of paper on the kitchen table, near the computer. I had moved it all, temporarily, to my chair in the bedroom and today, whilst sorting out (and putting away) the Christmas presents, I also sorted the bits of paper.

Amongst the things I ‘found’ were some cards from various restaurants I have visited in the last few months. Unfortunately, for one of them, my mind is a bit hazy as to exactly what I had – but that’s OK. I still have the impression from them all.

So, the first one (and oldest re: visit) that I have is Kapuziner Platz in der Stadt. This is the one in Viale Monte Nero. This is a German ‘pub’. The beer is, erm, German. The food is, erm, German (with an Italian touch, of course). Unfortunately I have forgotten what I had. I know F had a cottoletta milanese (wiener schnitzel). I suppose I had lamb – or beef. Anyway, the place is nice, the food was good (not fantastic but good) and I seem to remember it was reasonably priced.

The second one was Momà  Restaurant. The only link I could find was one through Facebook. We went there with Al and R and a friend of theirs. The meal was wonderful. OK, so it’s not so cheap but the antipasto (including burrato) was very, very good and the meat (Al and I shared a plate of meat) was fantastic. The wine we had with it was exceptional. One word of warning – don’t have antipasto and primo and secondo. The portions were very generous and to have all three would mean you would be unable to leave the table! I would go back there in a second.

The final one is outside Milan, in the ‘Hinterland’. And, unfortunately, this was dreadful. This was lunchtime and is in the town where I work. We had gone in on a public holiday to do some stuff and, for lunch, went here (as there’s not so much choice). It’s supposed to be good and, I have to admit, I have been there before when it seemed OK. This time, however, it was awful. The restaurant is Papillon. They’re supposed to have their own website (it says on the card) but it doesn’t work. A little like the restaurant. We all had pizza. Mine was (to be on the safe side) Diavola – with spicy salami. It wasn’t the very worst I’ve tasted – but it was close. The service was so slow and people who came in after us got served before us and, for what we had it’s expensive. Avoid it like the plague!

There – now I can put these cards away too :-D

Given a second chance the restaurant serves up a good meal

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I’ve tried to find it but I can’t – unless I didn’t give the real name, of course.

I can make mistakes.  Well, sort of mistakes.  I remember going, one time, with A.  Not long after it opened.  I suggested it.  It was an alternative to K2 since I never rated K2 that highly.  I came away from this one disappointed too!  For me, it seems that Tuscan restaurants outside Tuscany were, in some way, lacking.

An has been over.  She is Milanese but has been living in London for the last 6 years or so.  She came over for an interview for a job here, in Milan.  She got the job.  So, Friday night we went to the Imperiale for L’s birthday.  An came too.  We had a fabulous evening.  L and her partner, D, were fabulous hosts and, anyway, it was the Imperiale – what could possibly go wrong?

In a word – nothing.  It was fabulous.  By far the best Chinese in Milan ……………. AND, I live round the corner!

Saturday lunchtime An was leaving to return to the UK.  Unfortunately (for those of you in the UK), in case you hadn’t noticed, they’ve had a bit of what we could call ‘weather’.  The UK was almost closed.  No problem, the flight was delayed.  It would be leaving at 8 p.m.  To be honest, reading about what was going on, I didn’t think so – and I told F that.  He decided not to tell An.

So, about 7 p.m., she returned to the airport.  She was back about 9.  The flight had been cancelled because the crew had to go off shift (which is what I thought may happen).

Sunday she re-booked whilst we went out with the dogs.  Then F suggested we go for a plate of pasta at lunchtime.  He asked me where would be open.  I love that I can advise Italians who live a stone’s throw from me what is likely to be open and, mostly, give an idea of what might be good.  I remembered that the restaurant would be open and that it was Tuscan.  I told him that I thought it was a bit expensive but that it was OK.  To be honest, I didn’t remember it that well.

We walked up the street (since it is in my street) and looked at the menu displayed by the door.  F said that it wasn’t too expensive (and he was right, really).  We decided to go for it.  And, so, we entered Alle Colline Senesi.

It was full.  It is only a small restaurant.  Probably about 30 places.  There is a couple before us.  We, on the other hand, ‘are in three’.  A table for 4 becomes available and so we get to have it.  We offer to share with the couple but they really don’t seem to do that here, very much.

The menu was tempting – as was the food we saw being delivered.  We decided on some mixed antipasto.  Followed by some pasta for me, some soup for F and some melanzane parmigiana for An.  F asked about having some mix of meats but he also wanted crostini (small slices of bread with, usually for Tuscany, some rough liver pate or meat or tomatoes).

The meat arrived.  It was good.  the prosciutto was hand cut so was thicker than usual and much more like it would be in the UK.  I love it.  F was a little bit worried as the crostini (which, we were told, would come anyway, without the need to order) didn’t appear.  Then I remembered what was the worst thing about this restaurant – the service.  So slow.

We had finished the meat and were about to ask about the crostini – when it appeared.  F was happy.  The crostini consisted of one each of the rough liver pate, lardo and tomatoes with garlic.  Wonderful.

Then the main course came.  F’s soup (brodo) was thin and clear with huge pieces of ravioli; An’s parmigiana looked like something the cat had thrown up (but tasted wonderful) and I had pappardelle with cinghiale – a kind of roughly cut up lasagne or larger tagliatelle with a wild boar sauce.

The food was fantastic.  After, rather than have a main course (the portions having been more than a little generous), we had sweet.  F had zuppa inglese (like a tiramisù without coffee and with chocolate instead), An had the chestnut (or as she says, chesternut) tart and I had the poached pears.  The tart was nothing special (to me) and the poached pears could have done with cream or mascapone, in my opinion – but still, they were nice.

The whole lot, including a bottle and a half of house wine (quite good) and a bottle of water came to about €90.  Not bad really.  The service was so slow but, as F pointed out, it’s not the waiting staff that are causing the problem but that the kitchen was making everything (more or less) at the moment of serving and the waiting staff had to wait until it was ready.  And the tastes were great.  I think I could have eaten the roast pork chops with potatoes as well but I was full enough.

The thing is not to expect your meal to be done and dusted within half an hour.  We were there a couple of hours – but for a Sunday lunch that is perfect.  And, if you are prepared, for an evening meal it is fine too.  Worth the effort and I only give it 4 stars because it was a bit too slow for me.

Thanks; Chiara Civello; Perfect Yorkshire Puds and some really good port

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Well, I’ve now been and it was lovely but, as I’m not from the USA (I guess), it was, more or less, like going to dinner at someone’s house.

I’m talking of Thanksgiving.

I’m talking turkey, mashed potatoes, and a rather glorious stuffing.

To be honest, I thought it was going to be an all-American affair (except for me) but it took on quite an International flavour. 3 Americans, 1 Canadian, 1 Australian, 1 Italian and me. The turkey (which I’ve never been mad keen on) was rather good and well cooked. The stuffing was fantastic. The wine and conversation flowed and we even had a rather difficult conversation with N & S all the way from San Francisco – the ‘difficult’ part being the connection which, unfortunately kept dying.

I got home at about 3.30 a.m. I then spoke to Ag on the telephone. She was in need of someone to talk to. It meant I got to bed about 5.30. I was, unsurprisingly, tired on Saturday. My headache was still here (but that could have been just ‘cos I’m tired).

F phoned me during the day on Saturday. He said that things were going rather well and he was going to be coming home that night so that we can go to a concert. He had booked it before he knew that he would be away and there had always been some doubt about whether he would be there.

He got home in the late afternoon and then we met up and went for a pizza at Liù (see link at side) – except Liù was full so we went to Time Out 2 instead. Then strolled down to Il’s flat and took a taxi with her to see Chiara Civello at Blue Note.

She was fabulous although I was so tired and we went to the second concert of that evening – it started at 11.30! He knows her because his ex, M, from Rome, knows her. After the concert we went backstage and I was introduced to her as ‘my new boyfriend’. I had been similarly introduced to someone who sat with us and was a friend from some time ago. She works for Moschino or somewhere like that.  It was then added that I was a ‘real man compared to S’ – which always makes me smile – although I never, ever make any comment, of course.

Anyway, there are a couple of Chiara’s tracks at the bottom. I hope you enjoy them. She was lovely, always smiling and the music is really good.

Yesterday, as F is away, I had promised A that I would do Sunday lunch for him and Fr – you know, the Roast Beef type of Sunday lunch, which F would not enjoy so much.

A had baked some bread which we had with something that was like a light pâté that F had brought back from Germany. There was goose-liver and reindeer – they were delicious and not at all heavy as pâté can be sometimes.

Then we had the roast beef and, with my new cooker, the perfect Yorkshire puddings – YAY! I will do a post with the recipe since it has never, except once, let me down. The only reason it didn’t work before was my old oven, I was sure – and this proved correct when, this time, they were well risen and light – just as they should be. Also, when I had been in France last year, I had bought some red horseradish sauce – and it was quite hot, which I liked.

After that we had Apple and Blackberry Crumble with whipped cream. This was all followed by cheese (including Stilton) and some rather fine port, bought for me by a colleague when he went to Portugal. The problem was that then I just couldn’t stop drinking it. I had to ‘force’ myself to stop, even after A & Fr left.

Anyway, they enjoyed it – as did I.

I spent the rest of the evening washing up :-).

F is back on Wednesday as that is the day that the new shop will open. I will be very happy when he is back, as will Dino. And Rufus who is a LOT better. Thanks for all your kind wishes.

Anyway, enjoy Chiara – these are some of my favourite songs of hers.

In which my brain decides it wants to emigrate

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I have no problem when I wake up with one of those headaches after a night spent sharing a bottle of that terrible poison (Sambucca) with someone.  You know?  The one where there’s that pain in the side of your head where your brain is trying to emigrate to somewhere with better climes; where your brain seems to have decided it has outgrown your head; where, in addition to the pain, it seems that everything is ever-so-slightly fuzzy, unfocused and unreal.

Now, I’m not one for illnesses, in any form.  Not mine nor anyone else’s (although I can immediately think of some very noteworthy exceptions to this general rule).  Certainly, if someone has a headache, please don’t tell me about it.  If I have one, it is either because of the poison or it just annoys me and I force it to go away.

But, these last couple of weeks, nearly every morning, I have woken with this headache, this poison-inspired-like headache.  And it is very annoying.

I really wouldn’t mind if I had had a ‘good’ night the night before – but, as an example, the only drink I had yesterday was coffee until about 4 p.m. and then several mugs of tea – as normal.  I didn’t get to bed early – but neither was it later than normal.  I slept fairly well – neither particularly good, nor particularly bad.  Obviously, it wasn’t long enough but ……. on waking this morning I was disappointed that I hadn’t been drinking last night.  At least, then, I could have said, “Ah well but it was worth it!”

How old are you?; Inside a Lava Lamp; Cooking and DIY; Rufus; Oh, yes, and I win the lottery

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Miserable bloody weather that it was ….. and still is.

We get the day off on the 1st November. Some catholic thing about the day of the dead. To me, it’s a holiday. And, at a really stupid time of year! I mean, October/November? I ask you, why?

And so, from Saturday night, it rained. And rained. And rained. And rained. Well, you get the idea. It was grim with a capital ‘G’. After today it will be fine …….. until Saturday, when it’s forecast to …..piss down with rain!

Still, it meant, more or less, a weekend at home. We had been offered a trip to the Turin area and lunch at some restaurant. F didn’t really want to go. He doesn’t like the bad weather either, really. Anyway, the trip was to be Sunday when the forecast said it would rain all day (which it did, more or less), so F cancelled our ‘booking’. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

Friday.

A (his Milanese friend who lives in London) called. We were going to go for for an aperitivo at Polpetta (see link at side). He was just waiting for her to call when she was on her way. He phones/texts me about 9 to say they are on their way and would pick me up (since I live 2 seconds from Polpetta). On our walk there it is decided that we shall skip the aperitivo and go straight for the Pizza at Liù, which is just across the road from Polpetta.

Whilst we are eating, I get a call from M. M is F’s colleague and the second one I ever met. She speaks English at about the same level as I did before I moved here – if not worse. She is sweet and loveable and we get on really well, in spite of the language which, after a few beers, is not a barrier. She drinks like a fish (or like a cow, as F would say). Before I answer, I say to F that it is strange, her calling me (they are almost best friends, after all). I answer.

“How old are you?”, she asks in a clearly drunken stupor. There is someone (I guess L, their other friend) in the background shouting stuff at her. I know what she means. “I’m very well, thanks”, I reply. She talks some more. I understand nothing. I pass the phone to F.

It seems they are at some bar and want us to join them. The husbands/partners are watching football. M rang me rather than F because she knows F too well and knew he might not answer the phone :-). C is there too as her husband, Ma, who is English, is with the men watching the football.

After our meal we walk up to the Atomic Bar. They are waiting outside. F had told me, on the way there, that when he and S got together, they used to go there a lot. There are a lot of English people that go there. I cannot beat the description on the link – ‘Like hanging out inside a lava lamp”! We have a couple of beers. Ma joins us after the football. The music is too loud and I cannot hear people well, who, in any event, are all talking in Italian. I stand no chance. Plus, I am tired. We leave sometime after midnight, just after it starts to liven up a bit. Rather than English, I would say it is frequented by a lot of students. I am old enough to be their grandfather – not that I care but the loud music and stuff, although good, doesn’t fit well with how tired I am. I am glad to go.

Saturday.

The man came to put the cupboards up in the bathroom. These were the cupboards I bought from IKEA a few weeks ago. I assembled the cupboards but wasn’t quite confident to put them up – although, before I had assembled them I was so confident in my head. I mean, how difficult could it possibly be?

Well, apparently, quite difficult. As I watched him heave them up and there being a lot of cazzoing, I thought that, actually, I had been somewhat crazy to even imagine that I could have done this myself …… on my own! And he even had all the right tools! He looked at my light but couldn’t fix it (so I called the electrician – who may be there on Friday) and looked at my shutters in the bedroom (one of them wouldn’t close) and did fix that, sort of. But the important thing is that it now closes and (almost) opens.

Then, as I had arranged with F, we went to buy my new cooker. I had gone two weeks previously and found the one that I quite liked. It’s all gas, which is my preference but wider and slightly deeper than the current one but, more importantly than anything else, does not just have High, Low and Off but rather gas marks! I can’t wait. I shall be able to cook things properly with much less guessing. Anyway, Saturday was the last day for the offer for free delivery and free fitting which, with gas, is a must. Not really a DIY thing at all, especially for me! Also, the nice thing was that they will deliver on Friday! So I can plan a meal.

Saturday night we went to A’s place. F2 was there too although they are still not really ‘together’. F talks so much. Afterwards I said that he didn’t have to do so much talking. He replied that if he didn’t there would be nobody talking. I think this is not true but I think it is also when he is a bit nervous. The food was great, as usual. It started to rain just after we got there. And almost hasn’t stopped since. We left quite early as I was still tired.

Sunday.

The clocks went back. It means an extra hour in bed. Well, it would mean an extra hour – unless you have small children or dogs. I have dogs. The dogs didn’t put their clocks back. Plus Rufus is ill. I know this will mean a diarrhea mess in the kitchen, even if we do get up quite early. He can’t help it, of course. It does mean exactly that. We take them for a walk after I clean up. It is only spitting but, even so, we bypass the dog walking area – it is too wet and muddy for that. F didn’t have a good night. I did – it just wasn’t long enough.

He wants me to do Crumble again. This time I will do apple and blackberry. He also wants Shepherd’s Pie (as he calls it for, really, it should be Cottage Pie). He also wants carrots the way that A did them last night. I also want to try the Roasted Tomato Soup that I made a few weeks ago.

He goes home and I go shopping. They don’t have fresh Thyme, so I get dried. I forget to get bread (which I realise when it is too late). I get everything else I need. The supermarket (Carrefour in Via Modena) closes just as I am getting the last couple of things – which explains why it is so quiet in there – but this makes it a million times better than going to Esselunga, where I would have had to fight to get round and then queue up for about half an hour at the tills. I even manage to get a bus as I get to Via Castel Morrone! I am very happy.

I start the cooking when I get back. I think the tomato soup will be too much, so one tomato is omitted. I put too much black pepper on them (as I find out later). The Apple And Blackberry Crumble is both easy and will be fine, even if I don’t know how to get cooking apples, so it may be a little too sweet. The Shepherd’s Pie will be huge. I have just the perfect glass dish for it.

I am doing the Blackberry and Apple Crumble, the soup has been done and the Shepherd’s Pie is in the oven when there is the sound of a small explosion and steam comes from the cooker! Shit, I think to myself. I open the door of the oven. There is a lot of steam and hissing and the flames of the gas fire are yellow and bigger than they should be. It takes me a moment or two to realise that the glass was obviously not oven-proof as I had thought and has split. Shepherd’s Pie filling is all over the bottom of the oven. I turn the oven off and carefully lift out the remains of the glass dish. I put it on the side and the gravy starts dribbling nicely down the ‘curtain’ and onto the floor. Hmmmph! I think about it for a moment. Luckily, the glass has cracked (and come off) only on two of the corners. I can rescue most of it. Of course, to be certain I don’t have any glass in the part I am going to rescue, I need to leave quite a lot behind. However, there will be enough for the two of us for a couple of days, even now. I try to clean a very hot oven. Not very well but enough (I hope) to allow me to continue. Ah, well, the cooker goes away on Friday so who cares?

I have moved my computer into the kitchen, on to the kitchen table, since I need the internet to see the recipes. It works much better than me having to traipse from the kitchen to the lounge and trying to remember the next couple of steps. Also, I can listen to music or watch a film or something whilst I am cooking.

The plan is to eat early. I feel like I have been on my feet all day by the time F arrives at about 7.30. We sit down at 8. The meal is great apart from, slightly too much black pepper in the soup. The Shepherd’s Pie is the best I have ever done. The Apple and Blackberry Crumble is fantastic with whipped cream. I am very pleased. So is F. I decide I’m going to try Swiss Steak (a winter favourite of mine) and hope that he will eat the meat. I think I may try it at the weekend with my new cooker.

We play cards a bit, watch some TV, I take the dogs out (in the rain – did I mention that it rained almost ALL weekend?) and we go to sleep.

Monday (we are on holiday).

I am woken by, what seems to be, Rufus’ last breath. He has, what can best be described as, a very bad cold. It seems he is struggling to breathe. It wakes me up. It is 2.30 a.m. The long drawing of breath so loud as to wake me in the first place. I get up to check he’s OK. He’s OK but this is the second time in the last few days that this has happened. I worry that it’s not just a cold. I think that, just now, there seems to be something wrong nearly every week. He is very, very thin at his back end. When you rub his back you can feel every bone as if they are speed humps in the road. I decide to get up and have a drink. I go to the kitchen where, now, the computer is. I clean up the mess from Rufus. I have a drink and look at the computer. I chat with someone who is online through Facebook. They tell me to go back to bed. I do. I awake again just before 9. It is still raining.

F gets up to take the dogs out on a short walk. Short because it is still raining. Meanwhile, I clean up the mess from Rufus. I wonder when this will end. F has suggested that we won’t go to Austria for Christmas and New Year whilst Rufus is like this. I mean, whilst Rufus is alive. F says that he hopes he isn’t here when Rufus dies. I don’t tell him that, in all probability, it will be my choice and that I will take him to the vet, so he won’t see it anyway. I know that he won’t come. That’s OK. I worry that, just a little, I feel that I almost ‘want’ Rufus to go or get so bad that he has to go – just so I can go to Austria for Christmas. It makes me feel very guilty. But then, last night (well at 2.30 a.m.), I think that, anyway, it won’t be long.

However, I remember feeling just as guilty before, with Ben, while we were waiting for him to go before we came to Italy. That made me feel guilty too. In the end, I did it at the right time and I know I will do the same again. I won’t do it just to be away for Christmas – it doesn’t stop me feeling guilty though.

F goes home after breakfast. I sit in the kitchen, in front of the computer for a bit. Then I decide to clean the oven. It makes me feel much better. At least, when they take it away on Friday, it won’t be so bad and they won’t think me such a scumbag for having a dirty cooker! Then I sit at the computer a bit as some washing is doing. Then I decide to put up the new coat hanger I bought at the same time as I bought the table and which has been sitting in the hallway …… waiting for me to put it up. I drill the holes to the right length, put in the rawl plugs and put it up. I am very pleased although I know that I will be unable to open the front door fully. I think that, maybe, this will be a problem for the delivery of the cooker but then, I think, I can always take the coat hanger off, if I really need to. I write some posts but don’t finish them. As usual.

F comes over and we have a second round of soup, Shepherd’s Pie and Apple and Blackberry Crumble. then we watch Cinema Paradisio. I have seen it for about 15 years. The last time was when V & I were doing Italian at night school and the teacher lent it to us. I knew I loved it but couldn’t remember it at all. It’s lovely but we have to have a break at 10.30 so I can take the dogs out. We get to bed just before midnight. I will be tired tomorrow, I think. F says that I need to sleep. It’s true. I have two English lessons after work as well tomorrow night. I sleep.

Tuesday.

The clocks going back have made no difference to the fact that is is pitch black when the alarm goes off at 6.40! Or maybe it’s because it’s still bloody raining! OK, so not raining so much, but, obviously, it’s also dark because of the black clouds. Rufus has not made a mess. Well, that’s one good thing. I end up being late for work. I forgot to tell you that I did win the Superenalotto….everntually. I got three numbers on Saturday night. That’s €16.24. This morning, I go to the tobacconist below my house and play again (even if I promised that I would stop when the jackpot was won, which it was on Saturday – exactly when I won €16.24 instead of €177,000,000). Mau is there as usual. He’s promising to ring me about English lessons too. He needs it for the TOEFL test.

I get to work. I must leave home earlier than I do at the moment. I do the lesson log for M-T, my student for tonight. I am annoyed at myself for not having done it last week but it doesn’t really matter.

As I write this, it is still raining. It is supposed to stop in a couple of hours. I will not finish teaching before 8.30 tonight. Maybe, I think, I will take the whole day off on Friday, when the cooker is delivered. Why not?

I am tired.

Serious training required

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“I want a new baby”, he says. He is slightly drunk. I love him when he’s drunk. He’s more affectionate and also quite funny.

“You mean a puppy?”, I ask.

It seems ‘yes’. “We shall have to talk about the training first”, I state.

Of course, I don’t mean the puppy training. The puppy training is not a problem. I mean the ‘F training’. Of course, I don’t actually specify that. He thinks it’s the puppy training. There will also have to be less of the ‘can you take them out tonight’ or ‘do you mind if I don’t come’ lines. However, one thing at a time. And, anyway, it’s not happening before Rufus goes. Three, as I found out one time, are just so much more work.

We had been out with the ex-parents-in-law to al Grigliaro, a predominately fish restaurant, not far from our flats. F knew it because, when they are busy with the showroom sales and working till late in the evening, they sometimes go there as a group.

And, the staff know F, which is always a good thing as we get a much better service and, usually, a discount off the bill.

I asked him, as we were walking down to it, why he had changed his mind about me coming, since it was a complete about-turn and I was interested as to why the change of mind.

“I rang S”, he says, adding “and he said ‘of course you should take Andy'”. And, so, here we were walking down to another restaurant I hadn’t tried before.

It is another Sardinian restaurant but nothing like the same as Baia Chia. For one thing, this is not as ‘rustic’ as Baia Chia. There is more room and many more tables. It is also more expensive. We wait outside for M and S. They are from the Manchester area. I have my expectations of what they will look like and what they will be like. They are, of course, not really anything like I expected.

They are very nice, middle-class, people from the North. They know, of course, that we are not just ‘friends’ as F had said. But, then, S is their son and, no doubt told them that F had a new boyfriend. But, later, when F and I went out for a cigarette after the main course, I learnt of actually ‘why’ F was a little concerned.

They had met some time after S & F split up. They went out for a dinner. Apparently M (S’s mother) started crying and asking if S & F would get back together. He was worried about the same thing happening; or her being disappointed with him being with someone other than S; or something like that, I guess.

In typical Italian style, the restaurant was very brightly lit. The tables and chairs were OK but nothing special. The food however, was really lovely and the service very, very good. S didn’t eat shellfish (and was a bit of a finicky eater anyway). F asked the waiter (owner’s son) to bring us a selection of antipasto, mainly hot but also a little of the cold antipasto.

Plate after plate came. Some poached salmon, anchovies with a celery and ginger sauce; octopus with tiny courgette-type vegetables, squid with a rich, creamy, tomato sauce and polenta, prawns with artichoke, etc. For cold it was rather large prawns (that blue colour that looks as if it was someone who spent a little too long outside in freezing conditions), clams and, my favourite, oysters.

We chatted about many things and I asked appropriate questions, as one does. They were very nice people. And they were obviously pleased to see F had someone, probably, particularly, as they will have already met S’s new American boyfriend.

By the time we had finished the antipasto, none of us were really hungry. We decided to have three portions of fish (one of each poached, pan-fried and grilled) and split them between the four of us. The best was the grilled branzino – as branzino is, by far, my favourite fish.

We drank two bottles of very nice white wine. We had sweets. We had mirto which they had never had before and they brought the rest of the bottle, which we finished.

It went well. We are meeting them again tonight. Also, probably, A who is over from London again, for work. Tonight we shall go to Baia Chia.

As we are going up in the lift, with him slightly drunk, leaning on me and wanting cuddles, is when he said he wanted another ‘baby’. I know it is true, even if he is not there all the time (having to travel – even more now, probably, for work).

But, as I say, there will have to be some serious ‘F training’ for it to work :-D

No words

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“I really hope we go on and on”, he writes. He has had a wonderful year.

I am annoyed with myself that I didn’t get him a card now.

However, the cardigan was well accepted, so that’s good. And he added that he likes almost everything in Zara, so that’ll be the shop I use. He got me a camera which was lovely.

Saturday night we went to Taverna dell Lampara. Now, first off, I could not find any website in English where there was any review and so the link is only to Google Maps. We’ve been there a few times now and this was our choice since a) it is close to our houses, b) the food is superb and c) the atmosphere was perfect.

Unlike most restaurants in Italy, the lighting is subdued, meaning it is a little more romantic than most. They do fish – almost all fish, so don’t go there thinking there will be any meat. And, book – since they are almost always full. It is only a small restaurant (about 30 covers) and, unusually (compared to Giacomo, for example), the tables are larger and more spaced – meaning you’re not bumping elbows with your next door neighbour as you eat.

The service is quite good but everything is freshly cooked and so, sometimes, you have to wait a little. To start with, their bread is fantastic. Dark crusty bread – almost like a good crusty English loaf. Then they serve you some fish polpetta (meat ball) and some frittata (like a kind of omelete) – only small, just as a kind of sampler, if you like.

I had prawns and leeks as an antipasto, which was truly divine. The leeks just the right amount of flavour, not taking anything from the prawns. F had the usual raw tuna with uncooked fennel, very thinly sliced. We skipped the pasta (prima), as normal. I then had branzino (sea bass) cooked in a greaseproof paper parcel. This is different every time. This time was with slices of potato, olives and capers. It was lovely and cooked to perfection. F had, as usual, the Tuna with a sesame seed crunchy topping. For sweet, F had some chocolate mouse thing and I had some creamy thing with strawberries (I always seem to forget the sweets :-( ).

We had two bottles of Lighea – a white wine that F loves and it is very nice.

At the end of that we paid about €60 a head – however, it should have been more and we’re certain that they didn’t include one of the bottles of wine – even though I heard the young lad tell her that we had two.

So, not cheap but it is beautiful food and, as I mentioned, the atmosphere, with it’s low level lighting makes for a very romantic meal. It is one of the hidden gems of Milan. But you have to book.

Sunday, the actual day, was a nice day. We took the dogs for a shortish walk in the afternoon. F is still not feeling so good and, although it was sunny, it is not so warm now. And then, for most of the day I was cooking.

He brought some anchovies. These we buy from Carrefour and they are delicious. They are not done in some strong vinegar (as seems to be the norm) and, once open, are difficult not to finish. With some fresh crusty bread, they are wonderful.

I had arranged my new table, candles and everything. I had got a really nice couple of bottle of wine from ‘my’ wine shop. I put the remains of the mirto in the freezer.

He arrives whilst I am in the shower. “Oh, you’ve done Lemon Meringue Pie”, he says. Ah, so he’s brought something. No matter.

So, we had the anchovies first. Then I had done Roasted Tomato Soup with croutons and a basil paste. He wasn’t sure about the basil paste. He put a little in the soup but, after trying it, he kept adding more. He liked it! When we had finished the soup, he even got a piece of bread and spread some of the basil paste on it. I tried it and it was nice.

Next there was the sea bass, baked on a bed of pan-fried potatoes with a slightly hot (as it had chilli in it) sauce/filling. He’s not keen on bones but he said it was nice. I also did buttered leeks as a veg. He particularly loved the potatoes and the leeks.

For sweet we had a slice of the pie and a couple of little ramekins filled with different ice creams.

It was all lovely and I think he really enjoyed it all. He knew it had taken some effort and I think he was grateful for that.

I’m considering adding my favourite recipes to this site – just like I add my favourite restaurants. Particularly as some recipes I do are those handed down or that I have found over the years. Hmm, maybe.

Next time, I think I will do the sea bass recipe with fillets rather than whole fish. Less bones would be better, I think. Also, I think I would marinate the sea bass in the sauce – it would give a little more flavour to the sea bass.

Still, all in all, a great success and a lovely weekend.

And really, even if he doesn’t use words so much, I too, hope that we go on and on.

Is it connected or just coincidence?

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The place’s entrance is on the outside of a curve in the fast main road. The road runs along the top of a large hill but dips down towards the entrance of the place to rise again afterwards. The entrance is large, as is the car park that surrounds the place – too big for the place itself and one wonders how the car park was ever filled.

I go in with friends, as yet undefined. The car has a problem. We need somewhere to stay the night and this looks like a pub/hotel. But, apparently, it’s not. However, there is a hotel, within walking distance (since the car won’t go any more) further down the main road. We go for a quick drink in one of the many bars. This particular bar is to the left (as you look at the pub) and is, almost a separate building which has its own entrance.

A few days or weeks later I am back.

I am with a woman, younger than me. We stop at the pub for something to eat and drink. We get two rooms for the night. We each go to our rooms after dinner but then I remember that this place is not a hotel and has no rooms. I go back to the bar. I ask if it isn’t possible to stay in the rooms we are already in. Apparently not, since this is not a hotel. I go back to my room to pack. I pass the girl’s room which has a window (very large and with a rounded top) onto the corridor. I go in to tell her that we do have to pack and leave after all.

She is sitting in the hallway of her room, her back to the large window, kneeling on the floor. She is making what appears to be circles with her right elbow on the lino in front of the window.

“What are you doing?”, I ask.

“I’m clearing these lines away”

I bend down to see and, sure enough there are lines made as when you drag furniture along the floor – a sort of grey. As I look, her elbow does, indeed, clear these lines.

“OK”, I say, “we have to pack and go to this other place which is a hotel”. I add, “I’ve been before, it’s not far”.

“I’m glad you came”, she said, in a slightly strange, flat voice and yet, filled with some emotion that I could not guess at. “I need you to help me”.

“I need you to help me get away from this thing at my back”.

I look and see that there is a swirling, white, whirlpool of light behind her that appears to be pulling her into the window. I grab hold of her and pull. I pull her away from the light. The light wants her for itself. I pull harder. Even when she is free I can feel the light pulling her back, as if they are attached by rope. Once she is away, we stand and I hold her, cuddling her. My head rests on her shoulder. I look down her back and see that, although the white whirlpool of light is back at the window, she now has white light in the small of her back. I say nothing. I am scared, mainly for her.

____________________________________________________________________________________

I woke, of course, but returned to sleep quickly, as I was very tired.

The next morning I couldn’t get the girl out of my mind. Who was she? At first, I thought it was my sister, even if she looked nothing like her. Then I thought it was Best Mate, even though, again, it looked nothing like her.

I became convinced it was Best Mate.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

I phone. I wait whilst some unknown, unnamed person goes and gets her.

“How are you?”, I ask. She answers that she is ‘fine, thanks’ in a bright and over-cheerful voice. There’s something wrong, I know it. I ask. She explains that she now has someone with her. All the time. I guess what it is and why it is. I admonish her for it but in reality just feel frightened for her.

I tell her of the dream. The dream was two days ago. She says ‘Oh, how interesting’ in the fake, light voice that is required in order to get the ‘minder’ taken away. I can’t bring myself to ask if the dream and her actions were at all connected. But I am left wondering.

____________________________________________________________________________________

He tells me, over dinner what he would do.

“I would go and tell her like it is. Say that it’s her life and she can do what she wants but if she really wants to be better, she has to understand that it’s inside her and only she can stop it. Drugs and other things aren’t required. There are so many people who have real problems whereas hers are all in her head. If she was my friend, I would be hard on her. You should take a week from work and go over and talk to her”.

I want to. But I don’t want to make a mistake. He is right but it is easy for us to say. He thinks she is weak (not that he doesn’t like her) and she needs to be strong and, most of all, like herself. This is true. One must like oneself above everything, otherwise how can you like others or life or anything else?

But I’m not sure I am strong enough to do this. He tells me that if it was his best friend, this is what he would do. But, at least, I’m thinking about it!

If they put the price up, the people who will pay more will be those that buy the product.

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I was reading this article about imposing a minimum price for alcohol in the UK which, as with most research, seems a lot of money to pay for what is, in reality, common sense.

I can quite believe that the ‘winners’, should they fix a minimum price for booze in the UK, would be the supermarket chains. Of course they would be the winners!

But, I really couldn’t believe this line:

Researchers also suggested minimum pricing would have the greatest impact on households which consume the most alcohol.

Ummmm. Yes, I would think so. And I wonder why it was only a suggestion? That’s like saying that the people who smoke are going to be the most affected by an increase in the price of cigarettes or that people who drive a long way are likely to be those that suffer if there is a hike in the fuel price.

Well. Doh!

And I would like a few thousand for my statement in the title if any of you researchers are thinking of using it in any report you write. Please.

A tourist ………… almost!

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I am, strangely and unexpectedly, excited.

Is it really ‘going back to the ole country’? Or showing it off to F? Is it the wedding or is it meeting some old friends? I just don’t know but it is unexpected and strange. The weather will be, almost, cold with, maybe, some rain. Maximum temperatures predicted are 22° – more than 10° less than here. No sandals or shorts then.

But……there will be beer; there will be lamb; there will be roast beef; there will be custard; there will be the Herefordshire countryside; there will be driving on the left (actually, I am a little worried about that and forgetting to drive on the left all the time – having to think when I get to roundabouts and junctions); there will be miles; there will be pub food (maybe a ploughman’s lunch, for example); there will be Tetley’s T bags and chance to top up; there will be bacon sarnies; there will be roast pork with apple sauce and stuffing; etc.

OK, so mostly food then. I will go to places that I remember and be shocked how much it has all changed. I will shake my head with horror at how England’s green and pleasant land is being destroyed, bit by bit.  It will make me miss some things and make me glad that I’m missing others. Overall, I am expecting that I will be glad to get home to here, again.

It feels like I am going to be a real visitor – a tourist….almost.