13 Decembre 2008

13 – Decembre – 2008
We turned over the party last night with our eyes closed. Josh, working like plow horse, on his vacation no less, helped Carlo hammer out some prep for our big Saturday, 3 private parties, two off premise, one in the restaurant for dinner. Speaking of Josh, this afternoon he purchased himself €350 worth of truffles. Now, for those of you who don’t know, truffles are arguably the most highly sought after ingredient in refined cooking. I have pictures, my culinary proficient colleagues will be insanely jealous, and the rest of you are going to see a pile of “rocks” on a scale, but I ensure you, the aroma, flavor and even the sight of this rare, hard to find fungus are enough to send a foodie into overdrive. So for family meal Saturday night, he’ll be preparing a couple selections with white truffles to show his gratitude, even though, it should be us praising and basking him in glory for even coming through on his round-about way home. He’s a great kid, with a good head on his shoulders, an amazing work ethic, and excellent taste and skill in handling, preparing and enjoying food and its labors. So back on track we are (I know, very Yoda), we’re going out after work, we hit a German Bar that serves god awful pizza made with soy flour, and beers that take 15 minutes to pour. After that we head back to the Corso (the main drag) and stop at a very reputable bar called Bar Barique (as in barrels for aging wine in). I ordered a neat 10 year scotch and I might as well have been drinking iodine. Needless to say, I placed the drink on the bar, and will not ever return to that venue to flush my gullet. Now what do we do. Josh has been raving about these two bars, one he calls the “Burp-aria” because when he lived in the city, he used to go there to harass the locals. It was closed, so the other, he had been calling the “Champagneria” and I thought it was another fabled story I would have to imagine instead of experience. Thankfully, we I was surprised with a beautiful little neighborhood bar, with a fantastically entertaining, beautiful blonde hostess, an American apprentice from Texas and a great selection of wines, liquors and entertaining conversation. These are good people, all of whom struck several chords with my personal interests, directions with food, culture and politics, while being completely down to earth, funny and truly inspired by their work and trade. We close the bar and follow our breadcrumb trail back to the apartment at an early 3am.

This morning, now Saturday, I’m scheduled to work a f.o.h. (front of the house) shift for a buffet event. 30 people, and I’m lookin’ sharp! I’m laughing outloud here, so bare with me. I’m working in pin-stripe black pants (because that’s all I have) a white button down shirt, and my kitchen clogs. I don’t much mind, but certainly not the ideal outfit for my day. So, 10am, Jasmine and I are ready to go, loaded up her car and deliver the goods. We get set up, organize the room, and just on a side note, she smells quite ripe this morning, and she doesn’t even have the excuse of having a hard night at the bars last night. Just good ol’ fashioned European hygiene. So there we are, 1pm, standing at attention, I’m trying not to breathe too hard, and she’s trying to give me instructions, all in Italian. She understands next to no English, and she has great difficulty slowing down her speech so that I can translate her slang. Now that you have a more accurate depiction of the scene, we’re still waiting. Finally, guests start to arrive. We’re prepared for 30, although I think we have food for 60. The first couple enters, and do the normal, drop their things and dart to the food. Normal, except there isn’t anyone else coming. All together there are 6 guests that come and eat. SIX that is all. A ghastly amount of food is left over, and the hotel staff takes anything they can get their hands on, and even try to steal 4 bottles of wine. I don’t really understand it, but we stole back the wine, and let them get away with just about everything else they wanted, except cheese and salumi. Back to the kitchen. Elisa, an on call server asked me if I was married when I was cleaning and breaking down the mess from the private parties. I can only laugh and walk away. Oh, which reminds me, there is a FACEBOOK PARTY in Orvieto tonight. Yes, that’s right, the American imposed social retardation has spread its roots to Europe, and from what’s being touted as a community festa, there are supposed to be 6,000 people in the Piazza del Popolo tonight, which is a ridiculous number. 10 times the population that lives on the entire hill, in one square, so this is going to be one for the books… or the blog. So with that, it’s back to the grind stone, to sharpen my knives (thought that was going to be a cliché, didn’t you). I miss my family, friends and Koti, but I’m starting to do better with the distance, so here’s to another good night!

Salute!

Go Slow. Stay Local
Va Piano. Rimane Locale.