Following a hectic week, during which Pasticceria Penso had been busily preparing for the Barcolana crowds, I was looking forward to finally getting some face time with my bakery friends. First thing that morning, though, I needed to get my grocery shopping out of the way. By now I had a routine down, an easy circuit of produce market, gastronomia, and corner supermercato. In addition to my usual staples, I bought a small container each of baccalà mantecato and liptauer cheese, two dishes that would eventually make it into my book Flavors of Friuli: A Culinary Journey through Northeastern Italy.
I arrived at Penso promptly at our agreed upon time of 10:00am and was relieved to find the atmosphere much less harried than the previous week. Antonello needed a few more minutes to put the finishing touches on a tray of mini fruit tarts and offered me a tiny rectangle of torta Dobos to enjoy while I waited. The thin layers of sponge were filled with a light hazelnut chocolate buttercream and topped with the requisite caramel glaze.
We chatted awhile about the bakery’s history, before then delving into the details of their most popular pastries, including torta Sacher, torta Dobos, putizza, presnitz, and apple strudel. I took copious notes as Antonello relayed ingredients, special techniques, and historical facts. Being already mid-October, it was nearing time for the bakery to prepare a giant batch of fave dei morti for the upcoming Festa di Ognissanti (All Saints’ Day), and I was invited to come back the next day to watch them make the tiny pink, brown, and white almond cookies.
Before leaving for lunch, I enlisted Antonello’s help in procuring a photo of an Illy espresso cup for the section in my book on Illycaffé. An empty cup was not my preference, but since I don’t drink coffee, taking a photo in a bar was not an ideal solution for me. I couldn’t see myself ordering an espresso, snapping the photo, and leaving the full cup on the counter untouched. As the bakery had some of Illy’s designer cups in their display case, it was easy enough to take a few pictures there, to have as a backup.
However, my point-and-shoot camera—which I had only been using for indoor shots since my SLR film camera didn’t have a flash—was just marginally working at this point. In addition to the annoying automatic shut-down problem that had begun upon my arrival in Vienna, the viewfinder had since gone black, so I couldn’t see what I was shooting! I blindly took a few photos of one cup but soon decided my best option would be to shop around for a cup I could take home for staging my own shot.
As I wandered around looking for some place to eat lunch, a red-and-white sign in the shape of a life preserver caught my eye. It read Salvagente Osteria con Cucina. I was also intrigued by the menu posted outside that listed, among other traditional dishes, stuffed calamari. But, as was my experience all too often, there were actually only a few choices available. The waitress offered pasta with either seafood or tomato sauce, stew (what sort I neglected to take note of) with polenta, sardoni apanadi, sauerkraut, and patate in tecia. I chose the breaded sardines with a side of potatoes.
Since the restaurant was not busy, I took the time to clarify exactly what type of fish were used, since these were tiny, appearing more akin to anchovies than true sardines. In fact, sardoni—or as they are also called locally, sardoni barcolani—are not sardines at all. They are related to sardines but are known in English as European anchovies. These were butterflied, lightly breaded, and fried. The potatoes were mixed with bits of onion and pork and had a nice brown color from being cooked in the traditional cast iron skillet called a tecia.
After lunch, my plan was to take the bus to Monte Grisa, an eclectic sanctuary built in the 1960s upon the karst cliffs just north of Trieste. I boarded the #42 bus in Piazza Oberdan, a central hub for many bus lines in the city. Since not every #42 stopped at Monte Grisa, I needed to check the overhead sign for its route. This one looked questionable, but the bus was too crowded with school kids for me to reach the driver to ask. So when another #42 pulled up alongside us, I squeezed out the back door and asked its driver which bus I should take for Monte Grisa. He pointed to the bus I had just come from, so I crammed myself back on.
Not surprisingly, it didn’t go to Monte Grisa at all but ended up terminating in Prosecco. I got off there and caught the next #42 to Opicina. Of course, it was not the direct #42 but what I’ve dubbed the scenic #42, following a circuitous route through Rupingrande and Monrupino. At Opicina, while the bus was parked, I checked the schedule posted at the stop. Seeing that the same bus would be returning to Trieste via Monte Grisa, I immediately climbed back aboard. Ten minutes later, the bus departed, and I managed to finally arrive at Monte Grisa.
During my two boat excursions to Castello di Miramare, I had noticed the trapezoidal structure of Monte Grisa perched on the cliff overlooking the sea, but up close the church was even more striking: a web of triangular concrete frames and glass panels, inside and out. As Monte Grisa was surrounded by evergreen forests, I spent my remaining time—I had only an hour before needing to catch my return bus—strolling along a shady footpath through the woods. Aside from the few older couples I passed, I was quite alone, no sound but the wind rustling in the trees and the low rumble of distant traffic.
Fortunately, the bus arrived on schedule, and my return to Trieste was entirely uneventful. On my walk back to Residence Liberty, I stopped at Pasticceria Bomboniera and picked up a slice of torta Rigojanci for my dessert later. Having tried the mousse-filled chocolate cake in Budapest, and having read of its popularity in Trieste, I had been searching bakeries throughout the city. Bomboniera was the only place I had thus far been able to find it.
After stopping also at a bookstore and purchasing yet another cookbook on Triestine cuisine, I made it back to my apartment around 6:30pm. Too exhausted to do any cooking, I threw together a plate of leftover potatoes, some fresh mozzarella, a tomato, some baccalà, and a slice of bread spread with liptauer cheese. The liptauer I had seen in Vienna was an orange-pink color from the addition of paprika, one of many savory ingredients. Both times I had tried liptauer in Trieste, however, the cheese was white. At the gastronomia where I had purchased this one, I had taken note of the ingredients listed on the display label: it was simply ricotta mixed with gorgonzola and sprinkled with spicy paprika. Not being particularly fond of blue cheese, I can’t say I really cared for this liptauer, so I was happy to finish my meal and dig into my Rigojanci. Between the two layers of chocolate sponge was a thick layer of dark chocolate mousse, the top of the cake glazed with a rich chocolate ganache. It was a perfect, decadent ending to a rather trying day!