Venice: The Food and the Leftovers

Let’s see, what else did I do in Venice? I walked. I walked a lot. The weather was beautiful and the tourists were out in full force at the main tourist locations, so I just walked along the Grand Canal, and then along other canals, soaking in the good weather and listening to my iPod.

I found a park. It wasn’t very big and didn’t have much in it except for a few statues and a lot of benches. Another park had about a half-dozen buildings, each having the name of another country on the front of them. I never did figure that one out, though I can’t say I really tried all that hard, either.

Oh, and I ate. Lord, did I eat. I have to say that, overall, Italy was a little bit of a disappointment to me, except for the food – and with respect to the food, Italy was the greatest place that I’ve ever visited.

What did I have in Venice? Well, my last food was gelato. I thought that I had had my fill of gelato in Rome, but I was wrong. Here, the flavors that took my heart were mento chocolato and caramel. In a cone, in a cup, it didn’t matter.

I also had pizza. Pizza in Venice, like in all cities in Italy (and Argentina and the United States and etc.), is everywhere. The first thing that struck me about the pizza in Venice is that they have a pizza called Pizza USA here. It’s a pizza with french fries on top. Now, in my forty plus years in the good old USA, I’ve never seen a pizza with french fries on it, but somehow, Venetians have it in their collective head that in America, we eat french fries on our pizza. I couldn’t tell if I was more amused or insulted. I’m lying. I was insulted.

While I was in Venice, however, I did manage to have the best pizza that I’ve ever eaten. It was a spicy salami pizza at this little joint that I’ll call part of a chain because I saw two of them while I was in Venice, though it appears to be unique to Venice. The crust was super thin. To eat it in slices, you would have to cut tiny slices around the crust, but anything in the middle had to be eaten with a fork. I’m not sure what made it so good, but I got the distinct impression that there was a lot of butter between the cheese and the crust. (As I stated in my Facebook status, I couldn’t determine if the secret ingredient was love or butter, because they taste so much alike.) I counted at least three different types of salami on it and I believe that I have finally found my perfect Italian pizza. (Sadly, my pizza picture didn't come out, so here is an Italian patriotic pasta dish photo.)

I also ate a lot of pasta in Venice, but one type became my favorite. I had planned on having something different with every meal in Venice, but I had to try this dish twice. It was spaghetti carbonara. In more Americanized terms, it was spaghetti with bacon and eggs. I had seen it before, but the combination didn’t sound very tasty to me. In Venice, however, one day I walked upon this restaurant and the picture that it had of it in the menu looked appetizing, and I’m willing to try anything once as long as it includes bacon.

The egg portion of the dish was an egg-based sauce. You can definitely taste the egg, but there was more to it than that; though, don’t ask me what it was. Cream, I think. I’m not really that much of a foodie. The bacon came in tiny chunks that had a tendency to fall off the spaghetti and get saved for a few delicious mouthfuls at the end of the meal.

Okay, those are the Venice highlights. At the moment, I’m on a train to Ventmiglia (or Ventmille, if you’re in France), where I’ll switch trains on my way to Monte Carlo and Nice. See you there.