Before leaving, I did some research on restaurants - checking Frommer's best list, etc., but ended up just following my nose and checking the menu posted outside before going in.
But I found one absolutely marvelous restaurant, the Trattoria Ponte Vecchio, about two blocks from my hotel. It had everything: great food, lovely surroundings, decent prices and perfect service. So I ate there several times, enjoying chicken breasts in vino bianco, a tuna steak that melted in my mouth, roast potatoes that were the perfect crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, and an astounding apple cake drizzled with dark chocolate.
So I decided I'd go there for my Last Supper the night before I left. As I dressed in my best clothes, I speculated about what I'd eat. As I strolled between the Ponte Vecchio and the Uffizi, my mouth was watering. And then I realized I'd reached the Uffizi - where was my restaurant? I trudged back and forth, wondering if I'd hallucinated some "Brigadoon" - a magical place that appears occasionally to enchant people.
I eventually realized that the restaurant was closed on Wednesdays and that one of the filthy "garage doors" I'd passed on my fruitless search was hiding it from me. Curses!
So I followed my nose to another restaurant. I finally decided on chicken and potatoes (instead of the "fettucine to the porky") and, when my meal arrived, I was looking at, basically, chicken strips and french fries like you'd get at KFC. It was good, but still!
No comments:
Post a Comment