Something Fishy

Judy and Frank are in town, and we've had a wonderful week with them! After several weeks of persuasion on Jeremy's part, we decided to take the opportunity of their presence to go to a new restaurant outside of town. The restaurant-bar is owned by a family that Jeremy has befriended, and J was much impressed by the food served at the opening party. The restaurant specializes in fish and other unusual (non-pork!) foods, but you have to reserve so that they buy the fish fresh for you.

The night before last, Jeremy called to let them know that two members of the party wanted to eat trout, he and I both wanted snails (I wanted a half-portion), and Michael and I wanted whatever fish they thought looked good (in other words, one and a half portions).

We arrived by ones and twos, as is common with the family. Jeremy had made it first (on his bike), in order to play chess with his friend. Judy and I were the next to arrive (in the car). Giorgio, our host, greeted us with many questions about what we wanted to eat, how we wanted it, etc. I indicated that we were flexible, and that there would be 3 not eating fish (but anything would do...pizza, a bit of pasta, whatever). He looked a bit anxious, and said that he'd been instructed to get a salmon and trout. So he'd purchased an enormous salmon (about 2 feet long, based on his hand motions!), but wasn't really sure about what we wanted.

Again, I said that really anything that he wanted to fix would be just dandy by us. And we sat down, sending Jeremy into the kitchen to inspect the salmon.

And then I saw it: the most beautiful bowl of mussels. On a neighboring table. Giorgio saw me smack my lips, and asked if mussels would be welcome. I replied enthusiastically.

At some point, Ashley, Frank, Michael, and James showed up on foot (still missing Florence, who would be arriving by scooter from the pool), and we sat down to our first glass of wine. Giorgio had a very special white which he declared to be the best in the world (it was scrumptious, I will say, although I'm no expert).

Food arrived. Specifically a calamari salad with parsley, tomatoes, and possible a smidge of arugula? I don't remember details. But it was light and luscious and went down a treat.

Giorgio harkened back to the salmon. He wanted to get rid of the salmon. Salmon is not an Italian fish. He and I agreed that he would just feed us as he wished, and if we were still hungry, we could discuss the salmon concept further; in the meantime, he would keep the appetizers coming.

So. Mussels were succeeded by clams were succeeded by little octopi were succeeded by crumbed and baked on-the-shell mussels-razor clams-scallops. The mussels were in an AMAZING white winey sauce, the clams had a spicy tomato sauce, and the octopi were in a milder tomatoish sauce. Oh! I nearly forgot the snails! Not like escargot at all, which have an earthy, mushroomy flavor. Italian snails (or at least, this version of them) are little creatures about the size of the tiny hermit crabs we chase on the beach. They are cooked in their shells (as opposed to being removed, dunked in garlic butter, and rehoused in ornamental shells), and one spears them with toothpicks. If you're Frank, one puts the shell to the mouth to suck the snail out. They have a very delicate flavor, much like pasta (and come in a delicate tomato-based sauce), and the spearing is quite delightful (although it takes some concentration for some of us).

Then, since I was moaning about hunger (facetiously), he brought a seafood pasta. He gets the pasta specially from a different region because it works better with seafood. I can't disagree...it was outstanding. Each plate of pasta contained a dozen mussels, about 8 shrimp, bits and bobs of octopus and other yummy deliciousness.

About that time, a new bottle of wine appeared (I had asked for one glass of whatever plonk for Michael, since he was the only one still imbibing at that point)...on the house. It was a local white, and we discussed its characteristics compared to the previous elixir.

Well. We declared ourselves more than sated. Oh, the non-fish-eaters had a really outstanding beef (done rare and cut thin) and then some pasta with tomato and basil...yum! The kids had cake for dessert, while we ordered digestivi. I asked for the tiniest drop of limoncello (since I was driving), and he came back with a rather full liqueur glass. When I protested, he declared that he'd followed instructions, because it came in a small glass. Right.

And then it came time to pay. I'll let Michael describe that:

"Giorgio hadn't actually kept a tab of our various plates.  When I went up to the bar to discuss paying, he came out from the kitchen, found a sheet of the square grid paper the kids use for school, and started scribbling a list.  Five people with fish at X per head.  Three with meat at Y per head.  One bottle of wine.  Four desserts.  Then he waved a hand at the bottles of water, told me they don't charge a cover (cover charges are the norm here) when I suggested it, and finally agreed to charge something for the digestives and coffee, but probably only because his wife was looking over his shoulder."

We tumbled into or onto our various means of conveyance, and got home about midnight. I had mercy on the walkers, and made a second round of the town to go pick them up when they were about halfway home.

Love,

Alexandra