Yesterday…(yes I’m behind)…Riccardo picked me up in Piazza San Marco. This is out of the Area Pedonale some distance from Piazza della Signoria. It is a short distance from the Galleria dell’Accademia (where the real statue of David is housed). He picked me up on his scooter. It was Friday and there was a bus strike so the traffic was crazier than normal. They require helmets here. So I was facing, not only to a hair-raising experience but helmet-hair to boot. We threaded our way; through traffic at the most extreme angles, around swarms of pedestrians, within inches of bicycles, nose to nose with trucks and, as a short-cut we purposely went the wrong way on a Senso Unico (one way) street. This was his lunch hour and we didn’t have much time. Besides, as he said “I do it all the time.” I rather enjoyed the rush of adrenalin.
The restaurant is the one he always goes to on Friday. He knows everyone and even dates the owner. His charm is a palpable presence and seems to insulate him from the concerns that might occupy the rest of us, such as when he brings his current girlfriend in for lunch.
The location is off the beaten track in the northwest part of the suburbs. The place is small and the kitchen open. The cook is not on a diet, if you get my drift, and I am amazed that in such a small kitchen the staff can work around him. But the product he and this minimum staff put out is commensurate with any big multi-starred Zag-Mich status address. The kitchen staff works only a couple of feet from the tables. It’s a working class, in and out, establishment. No frills. Just hot crispy, moments out of the oven, flat bread and sliced baguettes with a large jug of Naturale and we were set to begin. Three courses are listed on the chalkboard (and only) menu. My weakness for risotto demanded I ignore the other three choices in that category. The serving was as large as any main course risotto I have had but this was just the first course. “De Mare” often means a lobster carcass had been dragged through the rice just moments before it comes to the table. If you are lucky there is one shrimp as garnish. Not here. There was an abundance of seafood, perhaps as much as there was rice and besides that there were six mussels in their shells. This was some of the best risotto I have ever had.
I had octopus for the second course. I was in a ragout of vegetables. It was good. Riccardo’s fish dish was excellent. “Bocolo” is the name, if memory serves me correctly. It is the Friday custom all over Florence. The fish is the traditional preserved fish of a bygone era. Apparently slightly salted as a curing (not so much as our Cod) then rinsed and prepared in various ways. Ric’s was sautéed in butter. Quick, clean and to the point. Delicate, rich and appropriate considering he also had the risotto. We both had cannellini bean salad.
No tax, no tip. We only had water. Nine euro for each of us. I was stuffed.
I’m not sure what the pedestrian food critic hacks at the LA or New York Times would say but this meal would especially please true connoisseurs like Marianne and Victor or even Bill Lewis.
As stuffed as I was I was somewhat apprehensive about the wild ride back. Yes, did I mention that the ancient cobbles of Florence streets are not mediated much by the shocks of a scooter?
Ric dropped me off at a REAL supermarket and he went back to work. Laundry soap, TP and paper towels aren’t found at the Mercato Centrale and would probably cost me a fortune at the historic Farmacia. Around the world a supermarket is basically the same. That is, laid out the same. Some products may vary but the categories are similar. The familiarity is reassuring. However, here, the sweets aisle is much larger and the fragrance sneaks up on you two aisles before you get there.
Pictures for tonight are from my wild ride on the motor scooter. However, they are all concocted after the fact on the long walk back from the supermarket.
