You Say Baloney, I Say Bologna

Just before we left for Italy, we decided to visit Bologna for one night. The intense heat in Viterbo prompted us to add another night. So, off we went Friday morning for the 3:20 drive north. It was quite painless, in large part because Fred provided some great playlists that we could listen to from our phones through the car radio. VERY ADVANCED for us!!! Plus there was virtually no traffic.

The Airbnb guy told us where to park conveniently to the place; he said driving in Bologna is horrible. We didn't find it to be, but it was a good warning, as we were happily surprised.

Our Airbnb was the best ever. It was in the former Jewish Ghetto section of the city -- an attic space, newly renovated, all white, white sheets, white towels, marble in the TWO bathrooms... just lovely. Heavenly, really. And AC!  The 82-step spiral staircase was painless with the reward of this little haven.

These first two photos are from Airbnb:

And these are mine.

The view out the window.

Our place was at the top of this building in the middle. With the little square lit windows.

Here's everything we knew we needed to do in Bologna (and did):
1) Eat bolognese
2) Eat mortadella
3) Eat tortellini
4) See the University of Bologna (oldest in the world)
5) Visit the Mercato di Mezzo -- a big food market
6) Have a gelato at one of the best places -- according to the internet. There are many that are tied for best. We chose one that required a ten minute walk... just to burn a few calories.
7) See an art museum (Fred did this)

Back to Day One.

We arrived mid afternoon and set out together for a bit before separating and doing our own thing. I usually walk, take pictures, stop in shops, and then settle into a caffé to either work, blog, or read. This day I read. Oh, and we are both tasked with scouting a place to have dinner. Something off the tourists's beaten path. (Fred's "two blocks left, two more blocks right" rule was put into action). I found something a tad too close to the beaten path, but when I walked by, it looked sweet and so I sat down nearby and Googled it. Feeling reassured by TripAdvisor, I went back and reserved a table for two outside at 9 pm. Fred and I met up at 7:00 for a drink -- as we typically do. The bar we were at had Wimbledon on, so that was awesome to watch. It was the Federer/Nadel semi-final match-- which we thought, at the time, was a final match. We disliked the bartender intensely as he had a major attitude and handed Fred the tab before giving us the drinks!  Also, he totally ignored me as I sat there ten minutes early, alone, before Fred arrived.

Then dinner. Winner!  We each ordered an entree, and shared. We are in Italy for a month and just can't go all out every single time we eat out. I had tortellini which I typically don't get a kick out of. I'm all about every bite being different. Every forkful of a meal should be a little different than the last. That said, every forkful of this tortellini (with meat) in BROTH TO DIE FOR was pretty damned good. I intend to make it at home. It's the equivalent of matzo ball soup. SAME effect. Comfort. Warmth. Love in a bowl.

Or in the words of a TV food show host on Flavour TV (found on YouTube, no mention of his name):

"This here is the greatest expression of mortadella, where it’s with its best friends prosciutto and parmesano wrapped up in this perfect little belly button of pasta."

I say YUCK to the belly button reference, but yes! It's perfect.

Fred had something semi-tasty but I felt that I had won. He felt he had. He can blog about his meal if he wants. :)

Next day, lots of walking and hitting our spots, as this was our one full day.

These folks thought I was taking a photo of the menu... as did I until I looked at the full image and decided not to crop it!
This is at the Mercato di Mezzo. 

Almost didn't see this guy, dressed in orange. The whole city is orange.

More people at the Mercato. We loved that the locals and the tourists alike enjoyed the Mercato. Unlike Faneuil Hall where a local hasn't been since 1979. 

At the University were a few special rooms to see -- more of a museum. This was a glimpse (through a gated door) of all the rooms of the library. As far as you could see, room after room.

I call her Pineapple Head. 

Seriously, how does this help business?

Tortellini!

A staple in so many places all over Italy—I started to not notice these beautiful machines.

Sweet boys watching those poor crabs waiting to be bought and boiled. 

Cute napkin art at the gelato place I read was the best. 

This was salted caramel and stracciatella (chocolate chip) with some chips two inches long.
The place was called Cremeria Santo Stefano. It was tasty, but I'm not a good judge since I've really never had an ice cream cone that I didn't love. Same with pizza. Which makes me an easy tourist in Italy.

These were marionettes in a glass case. You can avoid the glare of the glass if you press your camera lens right against it.

This was the head of a walking stick.

These are everywhere. I call them nudes but some people aren't as amused as I am.

An example of the porticos AND the magnificent light at the end of the day. 

Never seen so much pesto in one place. Except maybe at my friend Sheryl Rosner's house. (This is a test to see if she's reading.)

Mortadella! Basically bologna (baloney?) with fat chunks as far as I know.

Cool lighting fixture in the two-room museum that had the marionettes.

On our travels this day, we saw some umbrellas and an awning down a side street and decided to check it out as a possible dinner spot. When we got there, Fred realized he'd read about it — we usually stay away from places we've read about, unless it was on ChowHound or very deep down in a Trip Advisor chat. It was formerly a pharmacy and is now called Drogheria della Rosa. Drogheria means grocery shop, according to Google translate, but whatever. I made the reservation — we decided it would be perfect—good 15-minute walk away from where most of the action is, outdoor seating, and good reviews.

I'll copy and paste my Trip Advisor review so as not to spend one more bloody second of my life thinking about it.

Personae non grata

Ugh... We had such high hopes. The first three minutes were a whirlwind of free glasses of wine and ordering our first course, and then BOOM. Crickets. This owner guy seemed to play favorites as he flitted around the place with a full wine bottle, topping people off even over some protests that they'd had enough -- while I sat at the next table with an empty glass. In fact, I had an empty glass most of the night and had to keep flagging someone down for more. My husband and I both had the tagliatelle ala bolognese which was very tasty and a generous serving. As the owner guy got more and more flagrantly favoring his favorites and the waitstaff tap danced around him, losing track of who he was taking care of and who was being ignored, we decided to have our nightcap elsewhere, and forego a second course. It seemed to be a really fun night for some -- complimentary liqueur if you're "in" -- but we were in pretty good company out in Siberia as we tried to get the check. Take your chances with this place.

Bologna Magazine said this:  Drogheria Della Rosa is a charming restaurant in central Bologna in what was once a pharmacy and has kept all of the charm from the previous occupier....

This is the inside (courtesy of Bologna Magazine):

Not what I call charming.

One more irritating thing — I made the reservation in Italian, in person, and when we were lead to the table they spoke immediately in English to us before we said a word — as if — and I'm just theorizing — they had noted we are Americans. 

I did give it a good food rating, however, because the tagliatelle was good.

Here's Fred — before we started getting SUPER ANNOYED.

Enough!

Here's where we went for that nightcap. 

On to the next day!

Check out was 11, so we took our time getting out of the apartment — which we had stocked with yogurt, croissants, tea, milk, and juice — headed for the garage, and for home. The long way. We decided to go through a village of Florence called Fiesole to break up the trip home. Fred and I tend to go for the grittier more lived-in-by-Italians towns, so this wasn't our favorite. Pristine, peopled by well-heeled travelers arriving by bus for the day from Florence. They eat lunch, basically, check out the view (which is amazing) and get back on the bus.

Photos capture none of the awe — this perch overlooks a sprawling Florence where you can see the Duomo.

This was a lazy Sunday afternoon — not everyone was a tourist. There were some extended Italian families having lunch up here.

My favorite little car. 

I spied a kitty.

We decided not to lunch with the ladies who lunch, and push on to a more out-of-the-way spot, and were not disappointed with this decision. On the outskirts of Florence, where we were struggling to find the A1 and just get the hell out of a mess of streets we'd found ourselves in, Fred saw the sign. Osteria Pizzeria. The most unassuming, almost closed-looking spot.

Photo courtesy Google Maps. 

It was 2:50 when we went in. After ordering (and noticing we were the only patrons), we realized they closed at 3:00. They couldn't have been nicer and my dish was INSANELY GOOD. Fred's was, too — he got the same thing. All I know is this is what it seems to have in it [The description on the menu told nothing about what was in it.]: orange pepper, eggplant, zucchini, cherry tomatoes, garlic, all on a bed of pea purée.

Voila!