A Day of Superlatives...


Best frescoes ever... most charming medieval hill town... we really had such a lovely time today. We took the autostrada to Orvieto first. That's where the incredible Luca Signorelli frescoes are. I've linked to them before, but go back to the last post and go check 'em out. Reportedly, Michelangelo stopped by to see them on his way to paint the Sistine Chapel. They've got the same muscular sensuality, but Signorelli's are over the top. The laser-shooting angels that look like flying robots, the skeleton grinning and having a casual--and apparently amusing--chat with another of the elect, the heavy-faced-but-still-attractive Anti-Christ being told what to do by Satan, and I havenn't even mentioned my favorite panel yet. Ira brought binoculars, and we saw details we'd never noticed before. Check these out online or ask to see the book when you next come over for dinner.

Food, before I get to Pienza, let me discuss last night's meal and today's lunch. Both will tempt you to Umbria and Toscana.

Last night in Arezzo we dined at Logge Vasari in the Piazza Grande. We sat outside of course, listening to the fountain's plashing and watching the moon rise over the crenellated tower across the piazza. Oh, and the food was magnificent. My squid and artichoke salad was excellent, a smart combination of of tart and chewy. Ira's deer carpaccio appetizer was the best, though, more flavorful than beef and the thin slicing really made the venison taste come out. Luckily, he shared. My main dish was black ink ravioli filled with baccala (kind of a cod paste, but heavenly--better to leave it untranslated) smothered with a pecorino sauce and dotted with black truffles. Again, the combination seemed perfect. In fact, we're going back tonight and both having the same dish!

Today at lunch was another winner. We were in Pienza, which is a town redesigned by Pope Pius II, who was born there. He wanted to create an "ideal city" and it really does work. There's a path around the walls for the views of the Tuscan valley and hillsides. The houses and streets all have a calmness to them. It just makes you happy to walk around. The place even looks good with tourists.

Our lunch was at Trattoria da Fiorella, our third choice of restaurants as we walked around town. Even for late in October, there are lots of tourists here, mostly Italian, but with a fair smattering of Germans and Americans. Ira's before was black cabbage on toast, but I should have written down the Italian because it was gorgeous, such rich flavor from the greens and of course the bread was doused in great olive oil. My dish was a precise balance between boar carpaccio, black truffle, and pecorino cheese. Each bite... revelatory. I'm going to be eating a lot more game carpaccio. My spaghetti plate was handmade, thick uneven strands covered in sausage and mushrooms, so chewy and aromatic. I noticed a bit of parsley in the dish, which gave it just the additional flavor the strong meat sauce needed. Ira had the tagliatelli with black truffle. I assume it was great because he didn't offer me any!

I've so much loved our stay in Arezzo: terrific hotel, great art, succulent food, fun road trips. If you're coming to Italy, try Arezzo. Commercial out.

Travel day tomorrow. Hope to post from Firenze.

Over the Hills to Umbria...

We woke up early and took a leisurely drive to Urbino. I didn't seem to capture much of the beauty of the day, but here are some random, weird pictures anyway. Our drive took us over two spans of hills, both beautiful, covered in fall foliage. It was a big day for hunters, and we saw a whole group of them unloading their dogs by the road. We were driving, so we didn't get a picture of 'em.

Later, at the top, I stopped to take some pictures of foliage on the hills of the Bocca di Trabbaria, which is what I think this wilderness area is called. I walked up a path to get a better shot, then heard a gunshot close by. I heard hunters on the cliff above me and reconsidered my choice of a white shirt at the start of deer season. Well, I didn't get shot and neither did the deer. I saw a large herd of them on the other side of the hill, nearer town and right next to the road. It looks like the deer know that it's the start of deer season too!

Urbino is a hillside walled town with steep streets. You park down at the bottom and then take an elevator up to the main level. (OK, you can walk too, but it's only 50 cents!) The main attraction is the Palazzo Ducale, a fine Renaissance palace with a collection of paintings. Of course it has some della Francesca, and a fine Raphael, but my favorite paintings were those of Luca Signorelli, who did those wild frescoes at Orvieto. He has such a modern way with line and design. It really attracts your eye.

I've loved Paolo Uccello on this trip as well, and here he's represented by... well... kind of a racist comic strip. It's fascinating how it tells a story, though I admit I was a little fuzzy on the details. The anti-Semitism comes right through, of course.

We had lunch at a lovely old-style restaurant Vecchia Urbino. I had something called guarciale, which turned out to be a fatty bacon, cut extra thin, so thin that you wonder how it kept its shape in the cooking. But fatty bacon doesn't really sound all that appetizing, does it? It tasted heavenly, with a crisp and lightness that just kept getting better and better. Next I had a spaghetti dish that--loosely translated--means "the kind of spaghetti that the common folk like done in our style." Again, excellent and seemed to come from the terrain.

I was going to mention the gelato we had, but their website crashed my machine, so my lips are sealed.

I do want to mention our hotel again. It's the best hotel ever. OK, maybe that's an overstatement, but we are absolutely loving it there. Susie, if you're reading this, please book more people into this hotel, the Vogue Hotel Arezzo. And don't judge by the website. Our room is better than anything shown online. Ask for the Manzoni room. You won't be disappointed.

From Ravenna to Arezzo...

Yes, this is out of order, but I had trouble posting pictures, so had to create a new post.

OK, on to yesterday's travel and arrival. We saw some more incredible mosaics just outside of Ravenna, but that description will have to wait for the expanded edition.

Our drive was so beautiful. As you can see from the fall colors, the hills were bronzed. I walked up this pathway a little and the leaves were six inches deep in places. I dug under the surface with my shoe and saw--and smelled--a rich compost. I could have walked here for hours, but we had miles to go.

Arezzo is lovely and our hotel, the Vogue, amazing. It's completely restored, just opened last year. After our tiny shower in Venice, it's unreal that we have a huge bathtub and a separate shower with an overhead nozzle and side sprays. We're going to be the cleanest tourists in Italy. The shower even has a huge window that looks out over the room. It's the most luxurious hotel I've ever stayed in.

Dinner was monumental. We ordered a shared antipasti, and that was our downfall. There must have been 20 items on the plate. Here's a partial list, from what I wrote down and can remember.

• Cheese with black truffle
• Heart of artichoke salad
• Spinach tart
• Beef on a sliced hot pepper
• Baked garlic
• Spinach mousse wrapped with chicken
• Mushroom tart
• Ground pork in a yellow pepper
• Liver paste on a crostino with anchovy
• Tomato and spelt
• Goat cheese
• Pimento olives
• Cheese and pork in a beggar's purse
• Pomodoro bruschetta
• Sun-dried tomato

Now, these were all small, but my Lord that was just the first course. I had artichoke risotto, then for the third course gorged on pigeon that was so tender and delicate I want to apologize for all the pigeons I've demonized as flying rats. Sorry.

Greatest Painting in the World... and a Tartufi Shack...



From the sacredness of Piero della Francesca's Resurrection to the earthiness of the tartufo bianchi, we've had a terrific two days in Arezzo. (The picture is Ira coming out of the roadside white truffle stand.)

I'll start with today, then move backwards to our travel here yesterday. Today we went to visit the Church of San Francisco here, just two blocks from our hotel. It contains the Legend of the True Cross fresco cycle. You have to make an apppointment to see it, and your group gets 30 minutes to admire this unique work. Although Francesca finished more than one fresco cycle, this is the only one that survives. I was struck by the gaze of one of the soldiers in the lower battle scene. He's the only person to face the viewer directly, and the look on his eyes is filled with the sad wisdom that war brings.

This is a picture of the Madonna del Parto in Monterchi. Ira remembers driving up to a country church, parking outside, then gazing at the painting. Not anymore. Now you have to drive into town and look at the painting in a small museum as it's being restored. It's still magnificent, but not the same. We had a conversation with the young woman at the ticket booth, and that was her opinion too. Apparently, the county of Monterchi is going to vote on whether to return the Madonna to the church.

We had a terrific lunch in Sansepolcro, which is where... wait for it.. that best of all paintings resides. We wandered around a bit, but there weren't any outdoor places to sit that looked good, so we went to the Ristorante Fiorentino, which was packed with both locals and tourists. When we saw the generously proportioned owner, we knew we'd come to the right place. We had pasta with white truffles and it was everything we wanted, strong flavor with a smell that rocks you back a bit, all on a simple noodle pasta with butter.

Oh, and we saw a camel ambling down the street, but we were driving and didn't get a shot. (The circus is in town.)

Tonight a simple meal. Honest.

Mosaics in Ravenna and more Palladio...

We had a lovely getaway day from Venice yesterday. We drove to Vicenza to have lunch, then see the Teatro Olimpico and the Basilica from Palladio. Then a surprising good meal with a view of the Basilica in Vicenzo, then off to some villas. The first villa, Rotunda, we just glanced at from the gate. Apparently the frescoes aren't much. The second was the real point of the day, the Villa Valmarana, which is filled with wonderful Tiepolo frescoes. Inside the main house, frescoes by Giambattista the father, done in high style with gods and classical themes. I was most impressed by the wonderful way he painted a silver reflective helmet on a soldier. Close up you could tell it was an ingenious mash of greens and reds and blues. From a middle distance you thought it was silver.

That Villa is known as Il Nanni, because it has sculptures of dwarves on the wall leading up to it. The guesthouse has interior frescoes by Domenico Tiepolo, the son. He usually works in a more everyday style, with peasants and scenes of quotidian life. In one room he has some fantastic landcapes of China and includes a wonderful small painting over the door of a stork with a snake in its mouth. (Of course they didn't have a card for that one!)

Then we drove to Ravenna. On the way we stopped at a gas station for a Coke and saw two police officers transporting a prisoner. They had stopped for a beer and a sandwich, all three of them drinking and chatting like old friends. Only in Italy would police officers drink in uniform, drink with a prisoner, and drink before getting back on the road!

The mosaics in Ravenna have been incredible. You'll see from the pictures that they are ornate and expressive, in incredible detail. The town, however, is not much. There's not much graciousness to the spaces and it feels a bit dark and deserted at night and featureless during the day. We're only here for one day, however. I'd recommend just a day trip to see the mosaics. More when I get to a place where I can attach pictures.

Harry's Bar...

I don't have any relevant pictures, but thought it best to keep this in its own section since the night unrolled so spectacularly. We took the Vaporetto, which let us off right in front of the restaurant. We were early so decided to window shop. Just as we walked up the narrow street, after perusing windows of Pucci, fenestras of Fiorucci, a familiar voice hailed us. It was Jack from San Francisco, two hours off the plane but remarkably well preserved and as kind as ever. We strolled out to view St. Mark's and then came back in to be seated in the upstairs room.

We were next joined by our host, Charles, and his family. He introduced himself to us, and the evening was on. We know him from his sister and brother in law from San Francisco. Many thanks are due to him because we both ate, drank, and entertained ourselves richly at Harry's. I was seated next to Charles' teenage son. He was well-mannered and articulate, able to converse on a great range of topics, though we did dwell on a mutual liking for videogames.

There were nine of us, the largest party in the place, and Charles is a regular, so we had the rapt attention of a lot of the staff. They're always so helpful at Harry's and we had only the best service.

Despite the conversation and jokes and all-around graciousness, it is the food that brings you back. I started with the Caprese salad, tomatoes and mozzarella. It was sumptuous, the cheese among the best I've had. My second was a taglierre al saor (pasta with sardines) that was perfect. Several of us finished the meal with a simple pasta with tomato sauce, just a small taste, which was perfect before the desert. I had the lemon meringue pie, which was tart and cooked to its peak of taste, a balance between the lemon and the flattish sweet taste of the meringue.

There were several bottles of wine floating around, but I stuck with the Sosso from Felluga, a vintner I'd tried many times in Venice and always found deeply satisfying, from the relatively simple Pinot Grigio to this rich red.

We closed the place down. The staff gave us a final goodbye, then probably rushed off to the last vaporetto, as we did. It's hard to stay past 11 p.m. in Venice because so many of the workers can't afford to live in the lagoon and have to take the last public transportation to the mainland.

We caught the last vaporetto three or four times during our short week in Venice. There's something so satisfying about a large meal, finely cooked, and then a late-night cruise to your hotel. I'd recommend it to anyone!

Thank you to Charles and his lovely family for a wonderful evening out!

Wading to Torcello...



We chose a lovely day for our trip to the northern part of the lagoon. We passed Murano, got off at Burano, then took the Trajetto over to Torcello, a lovely if somewhat neglected island with a world-famous church and some important visitors.

We had to wade through about a foot of water to get there. When I saw someone walking barefoot the other way, I thought they were just a kook, but then I saw a knot of people on the path ahead and thought, "aqua alte, si" or was that, "aqua alte, shit"? It sure made it an adventure. We ended up walking through the Basilica with our pants rolled up. (Thank goodness bare calves are acceptable. Shorts are not in churches in Italy.)

The mosaics are wonderful. In particular I always like the Hell portion of the great compositions of death, salvation, and damnation. The back mosaic was stunning, with a whole panel done in black, white skulls with snakes coming from the eye sockets. I've stolen a graphic from Wikipedia, and you can look in the lower right-hand corner for an idea of what they have here. Ira assures me that the mosaics in Ravenna are more exquisite, but I'm perfectly satisfied with these.

You can't imagine the stench when they drain one of these canals for repairs. Mud stinks! And there was a restaurant right across from here. There was a sump pump running, a smell like you can't believe, and still there were people in there! Unbelievable. Our restaurant, Osteria al Ponte del Diavolo was much better. My mixed seafood appetizer was delicious. The octopus in particular was perfect, as tender a polpe as you can imagine, with a delicate oil sauce. My crab gnocchi tasted delicious, with tons of succulent crab meat. But after al Covo and one other place, this dish only came in third in the gnocchi cup race.

The wine was Livio Felluga, another recommendation from the sagacious Susan. This time I tried the Pinot Grigio and it was perhaps my favorite, aromatic and full of flavors that complemented every bite of seafood. I know that it's not an "important" wine, but lord the Grigio's great.

I climbed up the Campanile to get a look at the lagoon. I imagined Hemingway there, writing my favorite of his books, "Across the River and Into the Trees." I got a dim sense of what it must be like to hunt in the marshes around the lagoon. After talking with Diane of al Covo, I want to take a small boat trip around there next time.

Tonight we go to Harry's Bar with a group of friends. I'm expecting the same stellar service and amazing food as last time. It really is one of the places where you can just slide in and know you'll be taken care of. Enjoy a pink dog from the Grand Canal while I go eat!

La Biennale di Architettura...

We made it to the lovely Giardini Pubblici for the Architecture Biennial. It's hard to make sense of it with photos, but as you can see from the lead off, it's fun to take 'em. All the exhibits had a ton of sensory info, from models to sound to video to just an all-around sense of excitement from the mostly architecture students. My favorite display was from Rem Koolhaas. But I love this person who hated the exhibit even more. He didn't change my mind. I still think Rem's got it right when it comes to the West's reaction to Gulf architecture and development, but I'm now a huge The Gutter fan.

We've had aqua alte here at 11 a.m. and 11 p.m. every day. It hasn't hampered our movement, but it does make travel more interesting. An old lady with a cane came creaking up the gangplank to the vaporetto, so I offered her my arm. It turns out she got off at the same stop as Ira and I did, so I helped her off the even more perilous descent. (Imagine exiting a bus as it's bucking like a bad metal pony and you get the idea.) Once we made it to--relatively--dry ground she thanked me and we exchanged kisses on the cheek. The language of chivalry is universal. Sweet start to the morning.

On to the eating. For lunch today I had the worst meal I've ever had in Italy. Sorry to disappoint, but our first two choices were both ciuso. The first for a family death. In fact, the funeral was being held right as we stood in front of the doors. We briefly debated going over the the church to see if maybe they were doing a cold collation or a pot-luck, but decided to go to another nearby place that turned out to be closed Mondays for lunch. So we were tired and just went to a pretty view, sat down, and ate... well... crap. My spaghetti carbonara was buttery. I don't even want to describe the meat dish, but "dry," "dusty," and "possibly shoe leather" come to mind. The view was splendid, however, and last night's meal was heavenly.

We went back to al Covo. This meal will definitely appear on the top ten list. My before was simply the best gnocchi I've ever had, smothered in baby calimari. It was tender and just cooked enough to bring out the texture, but not enough to make it doughy. It was a perfect complement to the oh-so-slight chewiness of the calimari. Then I had the fried soft-shell crabs with onion rings, but onion rings has such a '50s diner sound, where as these are pretty much the sweet/salty equivalent of eating pure delight. The pear and prune cake from the previous trip was so good, I had to have it again. Diane shared the secret of how she prepares the pine nuts, a secret I will try to replicate at home this winter. (I'm also trying to duplicate the apple tart I had at l'Ambroisie in Paris, though it was not so much a tart as an apple slice on a bit of flaky dough, a bite-size apple pie that again was a perfect combination of texture and taste. Pray you get invited to our house for dinner this winter!

I should mention what we did yesterday. We went around to various museums and churches (even though you're *technically* not supposed to visit churches on Sunday. But our big project was a four-hour opera, l'Olimpiade by Galuppi, staged at the charming Teatro Malibran. The singing was extraordinary. I'd never heard such powerful singing from an entire ensemble. One of the roles was acted on stage but sung from the pit. I'd never seen that before and didn't know the reason. Luckily, tomorrow we are dining with an opera expert, so I will get the info. I've got to get out of here. Dinner awaits.

Palladian Days and al Covo Nights...

First, last night's eating. I received an email from Susan, a friend in New York, suggesting some restaurants in Venice. Two hours later, we sat down to an astounding meal at al Covo, located near the Arsenale. Looking at its Internet rep, I see it's one of those places tourist snobs avoid because it's full of tourists. (Hint: If you're there, it's not a secret.)

We loved it. I had the best fritto misto ever, so light you could forget that it's fried. I wavered over that and the soft-shell crab, so the waiter just combined the two, which was sweet of him. We had the vongole appetizer, billed to me as "the best on the planet." While I loved its distinct addition of squash blossoms, I still insist that Ira makes the best vongole on Earth. (Maybe I'm biased!)

I haven't even started on the desserts, home baked by the Texan-twanged co-owner, a little lady originally from Lubbock who combined charm and considerable talent with sugar. My pear and prune cake with sweetened pine nuts was so good, I'm going to have it again when we go back on Sunday. Ira's chocolate cake was good old-fashioned cake, not the drippy monstrosity you see in every fine restaurant nowadays. (Doesn't anybody cook a cake anymore?)

OK, enough about that meal, though I'm strongly suggesting it will show up on my top ten restaurant list at the end of the trip. On to Palladio, (Ira's favorite architect).

Villa Foscari, otherwise known as La Malcontenta, was our first stop, next to the lovely Brenta river, which is groomed like a canal. My pictures weren't fantastic today, because it was, overall, gray. Plus, it's difficult to take pictures of houses with a standard tourist setup. Go to the linked websites; you'll see beauty galore.

I should mention our tour guide, Rita, from Avventure Bellissime. She was so charming, but it was the preparation she put into it that impressed me. Ira knows his Palladio, so she really had to work to earn his respect. But she gave us printouts, kept us entertained, and generally behaved more like a trusted host than a guide. I hope she keeps us in mind on her next trip to San Francisco so we can repay some of her warm generosity.

Her next suggestion smacked of genius. She took us for lunch in the mountain town of Asolo, a favorite haunt of Eleanora Duse, Robert Browning... and I think Hemingway went there too. We ate at Il Bacaro, a small place that Rita has been going to since she was a child. As she said, "in a way I am sharing a part of my personal life." Charming. We ate upstairs with a large group of gregarious Italian tourists who were certainly in fine fettle, if not the finest fettle. We just had a simple pasta meal with mushrooms, but in season and delicious. It was just one of those small meals that still fill your heart as well as your stomach.

Villa Barbaro and Villa Emo will just have to wait. I've simply got no time left. There's eating to be done. I took lots of notes and have stories about the derivation of grotesque and the phrenological surprise of Palladio's reburial... but there's no time.

Opera and good weather tomorrow. Plus another trip to al Covo. Take that "locals only" restaurant snobs!

Aqua Alte...



We finally ran into the high water here in Venice. We had to use the walkways and everything. They don't feel very secure and it's such a dance when people with umbrellas pass, but it's a Venetian rite of passage.

I woke up early in the morning and decided to go out for a dawn stroll. I hopped on the vaporetto and went across to the Giudecca. They're rehabbing a huge old mill into a luxury hotel, but when I surveyed it, it's very much still a job site. They were hosing something out into the canal. (I don't want to imagine the pollution...) I walked right to the western edge of the island, which was... well... kind of muddy and damp. But on the way back, I saw people queued up for a supermarket and then an innovative way to deliver goods to a water-locked place.

Speaking of the Guidecca, we ate there last night as well. We'd tried to go to the ritzy Harry's Dolci, but it was closed for the winter. (This happened to us two years ago as well.) So we did the same thing as 2004 and went to the next available place and had a wonderful--much cheaper--meal. We ate at Trattoria Pizzeria Do Mori. We'd met a Venetian girl searching for her lost earring and she suggested the seafood there. Just as we parted, she shouted (in English) "I found it!" We cheered. It seemed like such a triumph. Back to Do Mori. We got served a huge puffed up bread like an empty calzone and it was delicious. I think their pizza is probably aces. But my first was spectacular, a crab gnocchi. It was possibly the best gnocchi I've ever had. And--this is a small detail, I know--the pepper grinder was perfect, with a real rough grind just the way we like it. I also had the cuttlefish cooked in its ink and Ira had the ravioli with radicchio and ricotta, both dishes tasted terrific. Friendly service completed a charming meal.

When I got back Ira was awake and ready, so we headed off to Peggy's place. For such a small museum, it has so about 5 or 10 (depending on taste) masterworks. What makes that painting really work is the ground, a black-and-white tile pattern simply drawn as a perspective, like you see in many a Renaissance painting. It puts a time period to it, especially since it's the wrong one.

Lunch today crossed the boundary into pure delight. We had just a short walk over the bridge to Al Gondolieri, recommended by the red Michelin. We had tartufo bianco for the first time this season and it was so rich and savory I want to eat there again. I had my truffles over a polenta nestled in a light cheese sauce. Ira had his as a main course over tagliatelli. Our wine was a David Sterza Valpolicella, which was light enough to wander over our divergent orders, as I had tender pork for my main dish. It was a cold morning, and that meal warmed us up for the whole day.

We spent the afternoon in contemplation of culture. No, we didn't go back to the hotel room to watch topless housewives on Italian TV. We went to the Scuola Grande San Rocco where Ira was impressed by the wood sculptures by Francesco Pianta il Giovane. They were fantastically detailed. One reference cited it as "fanatically." OK, this has to stop, I've got to get to dinner.

Can you guess what the following picture is?



It's a paving tile from the sculpture garden at the Peggy Guggenheim museum. Looks like art, no?

Wandering in Venice...

We got in to town at about noon and took a water taxi to our hotel, a luxury, but a fun one standing up in the back of the boat as it powers into town, ducking as we hit the wake of a ship going the other way. Our hotel room is SMALL, but it's relatively efficient, so we can move around.

We really didn't do much in the afternoon except wander. We're near the Accademia. If you click on that link, you'll get to a nice clickable map that will show you almost exactly where we are for the next week.

Of course, being somewhere is relative in Venice, since it's so difficult to get where you want to go. And then, when you're with as skilled a guide as Ira, and you do get to where you want to go, it's ciuso. Such was the case with the restaurant we wanted to eat lunch in.

But hey, this is Italy, and good food is just around the corner. We went to the nearest campo, or square, and chose a restaurant based on the charming brass pots hanging from the ceiling, Ristoteca Oniga. The food was good, but basic, without any of the flair that I've had before in Venice. My baccala (cod fish paste, which of course tastes so much better than it sounds in English) highlighted my appetizer. The fault was mine for the main course. I ordered the spinach lasagna because it looked good. It was, but just that. Note to myself--always get the seafood in Venice!

Then we just wandered. Neither of us had been in that particular neighborhood, and it was quiet and serene--a difficult task in a city as jammed as Venice with our sort. I've posted a few pictures of the walk. Then we went home and rested. Tonight--hopefully--it's Harry's Dolci. That'll be something to write home about.

And in case you're tired of the pretty pictures (despite the gruesome opening face) here's a terrific graffito that I saw in a campo near the university.

High and Low Eating...

We've finally found our eating groove here in Catalan country. We ate some blah, touristy stuff, but starting yesterday at breakfast... yumm. Surprising that the first good meal was at the ultra-touristy market just off La Rambla. But we found a counter cafe near the back that was devoid of Brits, Yanks, and Krauts... well, at least while we were there anyway. There's something about having an omelet and a quick beer for breakfast that sits well the rest of the day.

That night we went to a fancy restaurant recommended by Chowhounds. They've given us some good advice, though you do have to filter through the "I'm more obscure than thou" vibe. Drolma, in the Hotel Majestic, was sumptuous from the first. We sat at an enormous table for two, looking out over the wide boulevard. The first tastes were an array of bready, cheesy things, but that makes you think of cloying bites. These were light and ethereal, but still bread and cheese.

The wine we chose was particularly fine, a Miguel Torres 2001 Mas la Plana that we chose because Ira knows the part of the family that migrated to Sonoma Valley. Then we chose the Market Menu, which turned out to be one of the best three meals we've had so far.

• Dublin Bay prawn pureee with a fennel gelee.
• Sturgeon and pumpkin ravioli in vegetable soup. (The richness balanced by the clear broth.)
• Cream of mushrooms (ceps) with a deliciously cool foie gras chunk, plus some chopped artichokes and ceps.
• Baby squid, tender with just the right amount of chew.
• OK sea bass. This was the only dish that wasn't outstanding. It felt overcooked, though I think I'm just comparing it to the masterly performace of l'Ambroisie in Paris.
• Leg of baby goat, with a rich glaze and creamy mashed potatoes.
• There was a rich chocolate cake, but the best dessert course was a marshmallow. All the restaurants are serving them on a little plate at the end, but this one was tinted with orange blossom aroma and flavor and was like eating the flower from the tree.
  

It was the type of meal to put you in a reflective mood, as we sat and enjoyed the view out the window. Now, it wasn't all gravy. There was this annoying Italian couple in the same room who smoked constantly. They seemed to have read a book on how to be Bohemian and they were going to follow instructions until the end. They were affected and fake fake fake.

Today, after the Picasso Museum we went to a small, cooler-than-thou place on Carrer Saint Pau called Romesco that I heard about on Chowhound. (And yes, I feel bad about bad-mouthing them earlier now.) It's unprepossessing. Ira refused the first time we walked by because of the pinball/lottery machine in the front and the overall formica and fluorescent feel to the place. But I persisted and we were rewarded with a fine meal. I had the chickpeas, which were cooked in sausage fat. Then I had the rabbit, which was simply cooked with garlic. Unpretentious and just plain fun. Despite its renown as a place for a cheap meal, we heard nothing but Catalan around us. In a town so deluged with tourists, that felt like a small victory. Travel day tomorrow, then Venice!

We go to Vic...

Not many people take the train ride out of Barcelona to the city of Vic to see the work of an artist, but boy is Josep Maria Sert worth it. He painted the inside of the baroque cathedral there, and the monochrome paintings done in gold leaf set the perfect mood in that huge space. The picture here comes from a painting that is now in the Museum of Leather in Vic, but it shows off Sert's love of the exotic, with its moors, elephants, and palms. Now imagine that transplanted to a cathedral, telling the story of the Gospel. It works, strangely.

We also got to see an array of Sert paintings that were commissioned for a chateau in France. The Germans occupied the building and there was some¨"damage." So they sent them to Sert to fix them and he simply kept 'em! Way to go Jose! We asked at the tourism office and the woman sucked at her lip, and said, "It is no possible to see them... but I ask." Then she went across the street, asked, then took us on a personal tour of the paintings. It was so sweet of her and really made us feel good about the city. Later we sat and ate a basic meal at an outdoor cafe next to the bustling market, which sold a lot of pedestrian goods. No really pedestrian, like shoes, nothing quaint or anything like that, just necessities.

This other picture is at the Boqueria market off La Rambla in Barcelona. It's a crowded and charming market that has everything from skinned animals, dead hares, to terrific coffee shops. In a city swarming with tourists, we managed to eat breakfast in the company of Catalans.

Great Barcelona Architecture Continues With Gaudi...

All Gaudi, all the time. I'd seen these buildings before, but this was my first time inside. Particularly in this first one, the "Bones" building, it was a treat. The second, the "Rock Quarry," was impressive, but built for the bourgeois and therefore a bit more normal. Basically, I'm just going to cram as many pictures as I can here.

Barcelona in Bloom...

OK, so it's past the flower season, but boy has bustlin' Barcelona changed from when I was last here over twenty years ago. Streets that were dark, medieval, and a bit unsafe when I traipsed through them now are flocked with lots of tourists, and frankly, a lot of kinda down-market types. It looks like all the RyanAir and cheap flight folks are coming to Spain.

We got here by train. Saturday was a travel day and I spent most of the time looking out the window at the marvelous French countryside, vineyards, paysans, and everywhere good, fertile soil. It wasn't until we got to Narbonne that the terrain turned Mediterranean, growing gradually more rocky and light.

Barcelona's a bigger city than I remembered. We hiked up the stairs to the Palau Nacional and looked over the place. It has a Gherkin too! (That's that pickle-shaped high-rise done by Norman Foster.)

We paid homage to a greater architectural master in the morning with a visit to the reconstructed Mies ven der Rohe pavilion. It's elegant and simple and perfectly lovely with its gentle mix of green marble and travertine. Lots of architectural tourists from all over.

After that, a taxi ride across town to see the Sagrada Familia. They've done so much work since I've been here, almost finishing a nave of the cathedral. It looks marvelous. The ornaments of glittering stone fruit at the tops of the columns would have delighted Gaudi.

We haven't eaten anywhere special, just places we've found along the way. So far the food has lived up to that effort. Today I'll attempt to find something a bit more special. With that, I'm off to search the Web!