Whole latte love

Before I begin, I must mention that along with an outstanding continental breakfast spread, our hotel makes the most beautiful cappuccinos you’ve ever seen. Seriously. As my husband says, they are latte art! Coffee here is serious business. I think hubby’s probably going to cry when he has to return to the watery espresso of Indianapolis as compared to the real-deal Italian version.

the most perfect cappuccino ever!

Lots to report from the past few days, but not much food-related! After Thursday night’s dinner and gelato, I awoke Friday feeling like crap. My tummy is still trying to figure out just what the hell I’m trying to put it through and decided to stage a major revolt. Perhaps not coincidentally, I realized that the two times I’ve felt ill on this entire trip have been after eating gelato. Alas, no more of the frozen concoction for me. I’m not really a frequent ice cream eater anyway, so guess I’ll just go back to the occasional Haagen Daz at home.

So, my breakfast Friday morning consisted of hot peppermint tea. For lunch, I shared a few peanut butter crackers with the toddler and ate a pear. I felt somewhat recovered by dinner time that night, which was a quick crudo/mozzarella sandwich at hubby’s trade show and the rest of the fresh fruit cup that the toddler didn’t finish. Still not sure exactly what crudo is, will have to research. It’s like a super-salty meaty proscuitto kinda thing. You find paper-thin slices of it in sandwiches and salads and such; like bacon, a little goes a long way for flavor.

Speaking of the trade show, we got an opportunity on Friday to check it out and see just what hubby’s been up to all week. The EICMA show took place at Fiera Milano, a HUGE-ass convention center. This event was enormous – something like 18 full-size pavilions bursting at the seams with all things motorcycle. TONS of people (mostly men, surprise, surprise) everywhere. Supplies, equipment, racing schwack, the bikes themselves – it was absolutely overwhelming. The toddler and I took a cab to the show and somehow managed to locate hubby’s exhibition stand amid the chaos. It was seriously something to see and I’m glad we went to understand what all the fuss was about. The toddler had a blast running up and down the aisles; he was so excited by all the lights and noise and motorcycles, I thought his little head would explode.

A quick tangent – It’s interesting to note the difference between public reactions to the toddler here and in Germany. Last week, people didn’t really pay him much mind, with a few exceptions here and there such as the kind Asian gentleman at our hotel. Here, he is a total rock star. Nobody looks twice when he makes a high-pitched squeal in a restaurant. In Germany, I was half-expecting someone to ask us to leave when that happened. Women fawn all over the kid in Italy (even more so now that we’ve taught him to blow kisses on command). He’s got the female staff at the hotel absolutely wrapped around his little finger. Even at the trade show, people we didn’t know were smiling at him and taking photos of him sitting on the bikes. It’s all very sweet, really.

Saturday was perhaps the best day I’ve had here in Milan. I have to say, Milan did not make a good first impression on me, but I’ve slowly warmed up to it within the past few days. It’s kind of a hard place to get used to right off the bat, but after a week, I feel like I’ve sorta gotten the hang of how things work. A little bit anyway. I actually gave someone on the street instructions on how to find the right tram line yesterday! In English, mind you, but I still knew the answer!

Got up yesterday and headed out on our daily walk. On a whim, I decided to give “The Last Supper” one last go. The toddler and I were never able to board the tram line that would have taken us to the nearest stop, so we just boarded the one we’ve been riding to the Duomo all week, got as close as we could and walked the rest. As it turned out, this was a happy accident. The section of town we strolled through to get to Santa Maria Della Grazie was the most beautiful area I’ve seen all week.

We got to the church at 11:45 a.m., I entered the ticket office and crossed my fingers. I told the man behind the desk that we didn’t have a reservation, but wondered if there might be any cancellations this weekend. I don’t know if he was being honest, or if he merely cut me a break because I was pushing a stroller all around downtown Milan, but he hooked me up with a ticket for a viewing at 12:15. SCORE! I was thrilled! And it was just enough time to feed the toddler some lunch, another bonus.

Small groups of around 25-30 people are allowed to view the painting in 15-minute increments throughout the day. They keep things moving on a strict schedule; at five minutes prior to your allotted time, they call you in. Visitors are herded through two vestibules on the way in with doors that keep each crowd self-contained in one small space at a time. Finally, you enter THE room.

The painting is huge – 15 feet by 30 feet, I believe – and takes up an entire wall of what was once a church dining hall. There is now nothing else in the room, with the exception of a couple benches and another huge painting of the crucifixion opposite “The Last Supper.” All the focus is on the art. The painting is massive, and honestly, breathtaking. A docent gave a little narrative about it in several different languages, all of which I missed as I was keeping an eye on the toddler, overjoyed at being allowed to run free for a few minutes within the closed room. On the way into the church, I was furious to realize that my camera battery had gone flat, but as it turned out, it didn’t matter. They are deadly serious about not allowing any photos inside. A Japanese man kept trying to sneak one in, and they busted him every time. On his last attempt, a big booming voice came over an unseen P.A. system announcing “NO PHOTO!!!” I about jumped out of my skin; it was like an edict from God. I kept looking around for armed guards to storm in and take the poor man away.

After 15 minutes, you’re ushered out again and that’s that. It really isn’t enough time to take it all in and appreciate the level of detail that Da Vinci put into this commissioned work. No wonder it took him something like three years to complete. The painting has gone through several restorations over the years, the most recent taking place within the past few decades. I just can’t begin to describe how impressive it is. If you’re ever in Milan, this is definitely something you should try to do. It was well worth all the trials and tribulations I went through to get there.

I was enjoying this new area I’d discovered so much that when the toddler nodded off in his stroller, I just let him snooze and found a not-quite-rip-off cafe overlooking the Piazza del Duomo for my own lunch. Again, nothing fancy, just a Caprese panino (no tuna this time) and a Coke. I enjoyed it at my leisure while people-watching and taking in the lovely Duomo.

We caught the tram back and I decided to get off a few stops early to explore a promising-looking street market I’d glimpsed earlier on the way downtown. Turns out, the few stands I’d seen from the tram were just the tip of the iceberg; this market continued on down one of the side streets for about six blocks! Unlike the Paris markets, there weren’t many food vendors, and what they had wasn’t nearly as top-shelf. However, this seemed THE place to be for designer knockoff shoes, purses, wallets and belts, plus a bunch of other clothing vendors and some trinkety stuff. I bought a beautiful (and seems to be nicely made) brown leather wannabe Prada bag for 30 euros, and a silky cashmere-ish sweater top for 20. FINALLY, some shopping I could afford in Milan! Now I actually can go back home with something to show for my visit.

We’d been away from Il Pavone for two nights in a row, so were due for a return last night. Dinner was good, although I have to wonder if Maria’s got it in for me somehow. There was the whole steak confusion last time, and then last night, she forgot my salad. Feeling up to tackling some pasta again, I filled up on spaghetti bolognese and a little taste of hubby’s pizza. It was good, as everything is, but not the best thing I’ve had there.

After busting ass all week, hubby’s hoping to get things wrapped up at a decent hour tonight. Today’s the last day of his show, and I’d really love to take him back downtown and introduce him to my newly discovered territory from yesterday. We’ll see, hopefully it will work out. Tomorrow, we’re off on a road trip to Ducati, the Rolls-Royce of the motorcycle world, and hope to pay a visit to the world-famous Dario the butcher and taste some of his culinary delights. I’m excited to get out of the city and see some of the Italian countryside. A domani, mi amici!

Basta pasta

Never thought I’d say this, but I’m getting sick of spaghetti. I broke my five-day pasta streak last night. I had to. Between chocolate croissants for breakfast every morning, Caprese panini for lunch and pasta every night, my body was going into carbohydrate shock. Yesterday afternoon, I came down with a terrible stomachache and decided enough was enough. Or as the Italians say, “basta.”

For last night’s Il Pavone dinner, I considered going light with a bowl of soup and a salad, until I saw the steaks being delivered to the diners seated to my right. Remembering that I hadn’t eaten meat since Germany, I decided I probably could use a good dose of protein and iron. Tagliata, or sliced steak, topped with mushrooms sounded like just the ticket. Patrick’s colleague was also in a red meat frame of mind and ordered from the steak portion of the menu as well, but when our plates arrived, we couldn’t tell whose was whose.

One plate arrived hot and sizzling, like an Italian fajita platter, slices of steak topped with arugula and big shavings of parmesan. The other dish was a big hunk of meat with a mushroomy-peppercorn sauce. Hubby’s friend and I were both a little confused. I thought I had ordered my meat topped with mushrooms; he thought he’d ordered his topped with peppers. We traded plates, but still couldn’t figure out whether or not we were actually eating the correct order. In the end, we just split them down the middle and everyone was happy. I don’t even remember what hubby ordered, I was so into the beef. At least, I assume it was beef. If it wasn’t, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know about it.

The sizzling platter was delicious and the parmesan lent a touch of richness. And I always forget how much I like arugula until I get it on something in a restaurant. (Note to self: seek out arugula at Indy supermarkets.) The peppercorn sauce on the other steak was really spicy with crunchy whole roasted peppercorns that added a good amount of heat without blowing your head off. The steak was really on the rare side and though I’m more of a medium-well girl, it was so good I didn’t care. With a generous mixed veggie salad to round things out, the only carbs I ingested for the whole meal were a few bites of the toddler’s breadsticks.

My plan today was to try to see Michaelangelo’s “The Last Supper.” The original painting is housed in a church here called Santa Maria Della Grazie. The only hangup is, you’re supposed to make a reservation for a viewing. Weeks in advance. Hmph. The concierge here at the hotel gave me hope, however, that we might be able to just show up, wait on line and snag an unused reservation for one of the daily no-shows. I got directions, found out which tram line to take, and the toddler and I set out.

In typical Italian fashion, everything ends up taking MUCH longer than you think it’s going to, and you can’t ever count on anything to run efficiently or on time. We stood at the tram stop waiting patiently while the old step-up model trams that we can’t get the stroller onto passed us by again and again. After an hour, I gave up. Ever the little trooper, the toddler hung in there without too much complaining. Maybe we’ll try again another day. Or maybe not.

Changing gears, we hopped on the tram going away from the inner city and rode it to the Cimitero Maggiore (cemetery) at the other end of the line. It was a beautiful blue-sky day, and I figured it would be a good place to let the kid run free for awhile.

This cemetery has to be the most elaborately decorated resting place I’ve ever seen. The entrance is marked with huge stone gates and lined with half a dozen flower stands. Once through the entry, the graves and mausoleums are adorned with arresting statues depicting all manner of Catholic verses — the crucified Jesus laying across Mary Magdalene, life-size angels, Jesus gathering lambs. There are also stained glass inlays in marble headstones, whole series of family portraits atop the graves, and TONS of fresh flowers everywhere. This place is so scrupulously maintained, I didn’t see any browned or dried-out blooms at all. It was so peaceful and super interesting to stroll around, and we only covered a very small section near the front.

The toddler kept wanting to stop and rearrange the rock borders and then he tripped and fell straight into a muddy puddle, so I corralled him back into the stroller amid violent protest. We started walking toward the hotel, on the lookout for a little cafe we could duck into for a quick lunch, but nothing really jumped out at me and we were cutting into the toddler’s nap by that point, so we just continued on all the way back. I grabbed a fairly decent prepackaged salad at the supermarket along the way to eat in the room.

We planned to meet up with hubby downtown by the Duomo when he finished up with his trade show for the day, so I decided to try a new approach to get the toddler to eat something other than crackers and cheese. Some might call it an act of desperation. We went to McDonald’s.

I quickly discovered the Mickey D’s in the Duomo piazza is home to ALL sorts of humanity. I ordered a Happy Meal for the toddler, grabbed a stool in the back of the restaurant and hoped for the best. Alas, he only wanted to eat the fries. I did manage to get a fruit cup and some yogurt down his throat as well. I’m really going to have my work cut out getting his diet back on track once we get home.

We still had an hour or so to kill before hubby was due to meet us, so we went strolling around the shopping district yet again. There are some absolutely beautiful old buildings here. I’d love to go on a guided tour to learn more about the city and its colorful history, but don’t think I’ll get the opportunity before we leave next week.

Hubby made it through the metro, we reconvened and meandered over to a place I’d spotted just off the piazza. Most of the dining establishments in the general Duomo area seem to be total tourist traps, and Merchanti Caffe was no exception. After eating high on the hog and easy on the wallet at Il Pavone all week, the meal we had tonight honestly outraged me.

Hubby ordered his standard pizza salami, a good-sized pie to be fair, and I ordered the risotto con funghi (rice with mushrooms). We also had one beer and one rather stingy but delicious glass of wine. Our total bill: around 50 euros. That’s like 70 bucks or so. For 50 euros, three of us could easily have stuffed ourselves senseless at Il Pavone. With drinks.

My plate of risotto could have been a side dish. It was not a lot of food. There was no bread, no salad, no nothing else. Just a scoop of risotto. For 13 euros. My glass of wine cost about the same. NOT good value. To give you a comparison, I saw a sidewalk chalkboard outside a cafe near our hotel advertising a lunch consisting of a first course (pasta), second course (meat or fish), bread, 1/4 liter of house wine AND coffee all for a mere 9 euros.

I finished my risotto (quickly) and was still starving, but I wasn’t about to order anything else there at those prices. The waiters were very nice to us and I guess you pay for the ambiance, but I didn’t feel it was worth what we paid at all.

After settling the tab, hubby chased the toddler while I thought about picking up a sandwich or dessert elsewhere. If I’d known I was only going to get a small plate or rice and a few shrooms, I would have eaten the rest of the rejected Happy Meal earlier! As it was, I used the occasion as an excuse to wander back to the unbelievably beautiful gelato counter I’d found on previous excursions.

ah, gelato!!!

I got a medium cone, which could have easily passed for a large in my book, and three good scoops of my choice of gelato flavors to fill it. After much difficult consideration, I opted for the chocolate fondant, milky vanilla and creamy walnut versions. It was the mother ice cream cone and, at three euros, almost totally alleviated the bad feelings from my overpriced dinner.

As soon as I got back to hubby and the toddler, the two of them immediately commandeered my cone and I was relegated to sharing. No matter, I was finally full about halfway through.