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Posts Tagged ‘castles’

Muggia's Palazzo dei RettoriEarly the next morning, Mike and I took a boat to Muggia, located just south of Trieste near the Slovenian border. My previous visits to Muggia had been in February, and with an overcast sky both times, conditions were less than ideal to take photos of Muggia’s distinctive trilobed Duomo. In fact, on my second visit, I had made a special trip from Udine just to see Muggia’s Carnevale parade, but to my dismay, the parade was cancelled due to rain. Today was a brilliant, sunny day, but unfortunately at 9:00 in the morning, the sun was in the wrong place. With the light shining from the east, the Duomo was backlit and would make for a white, overexposed sky. Mike and I hung around a full 15 minutes before catching the next bus back to Trieste.

Trieste's Castello di San GiustoDeciding to explore the city’s old section, we climbed the Scala dei Giganti (Giants’ Stairway) to Castello di San Giusto. Much of the castle was closed off due to construction, and we ended up circling the hill several times before finding a way through. Once at the top, we were able to visit the Cattedrale di San Giusto, as well as the nearby churches Santa Maria Maggiore and San Silvestro.

We descended the hill on the opposite side, past the ruins of the Roman amphitheater. Then, we wandered through Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia and along the Canal Grande, stopping at a few bookstores along the way, so that I could browse their local cookbook collections.

Trieste's Palazzo del GovernoFor lunch, I had selected an old-style buffet from my guidebook, but it happened to be closed that day. I was determined to continue pursuing my goulasch quandary, so we settled on the next restaurant we found that listed goulasch on their menu—Birreria Forst. With an atmosphere something like a cross between a beer hall and a diner, it was comfortable enough, although lacking the charm of many smaller establishments. I did order the goulasch (although, once again, there were no tomatoes in the sauce), which was served with patate in tecia. In typical American style, Mike ordered “toast”—a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with French fries.

Castello di MiramareAfter lunch, we returned to Castello di Miramare in hopes of finally getting my “blue sky” shots. We arrived by bus this time but found that the castle’s entrance up the hill from the Grignano harbor was closed. Massive wrought-iron gates were locked with a heavy chain; there was no getting through. The only option was to walk back down to the harbor, then back up along the highway to look for one of the castle’s other two entrances. Fortunately, we succeeded in finding the second entrance, and I was thrilled to finally get some gorgeous images of Miramare. The views from the castle’s balcony promenade were especially breathtaking! We spent the rest of the afternoon strolling through the park’s 54 acres—a network of paths winding around manicured gardens and peaceful lakes.

We exited the park through the same gate we had entered, hoping that there would be a bus stop nearby. The problem was that we didn’t know if the closest stop was behind us or ahead of us, so we took a gamble and headed along the highway toward Trieste. This turned out to be the wrong choice, for we walked all the way to Barcola before coming across a bus stop. And of course, by the time we got there, we had just missed the bus by a few seconds! So, we found a bench along the promenade, facing the sea and with Trieste not far to our left. Despite the hot afternoon sun beating down, we were content—myself especially, since I had finally succeeded in getting my photos of Miramare. Eventually, I would return to Muggia, too—at the proper time of day for photos.

Back in Trieste, we opted for a late afternoon snack of gelato at Gelateria Zampolli. I ordered yogurt, fragola (strawberry), and mela verde (green apple)—although my Italian was obviously not clear, for I received only two flavors, apple and “strawberry yogurt.” Mike had a cup with baci, nutella, and dulce de leche.

It was our final night in Trieste, and we wanted our last dinner there to be extra special. As usual, I was armed with a list of restaurants from my guidebook, but some had apparently closed and a few others appeared to be generic Italian (or what has been dubbed “national” cuisine, as opposed to the more distinctive regional cuisine). Ultimately, we settled on Ristorante Al Cantuccio, which was across the street from Ristorante Al Bagatto (where we had dined on the night of our arrival). It was another elegant (and expensive) splurge! I ordered the spaghetti al pesto con sgombro (pasta with pesto and mackerel), and Mike started with tagliatelle with shrimp in a balsamic sauce. My second course was filletto di rombo (turbot fillet) with sage and potatoes, while Mike had calamari with thyme, balsamic vinegar, and potatoes.

wineOn this trip, we had gotten in the habit of ordering a mezzo litro (half liter) of house wine with our meals. At Ristorante Al Cantuccio, however, wine was only available by the bottle, so we requested some Vitovska, a white wine from the Carso area around Trieste.

I must digress for a moment now to reminisce about my very first trip to Italy, when I found myself in a similar situation. I was 22 years old and traveling with my mom. We were having lunch at a seafood restaurant in Portovenere, when the waiter brought us a full bottle of wine instead of the requested quarter liter. This was before I had studied any Italian, so neither of us comprehended the waiter’s instructions. Looking back, I believe he was telling us to drink only as much as we wanted and that would be the amount he’d charge us for; however, all we understood was “bevi, bevi,” so that we did—we drank the entire bottle! The same thing happened more recently at my lunch at Arta Terme’s Ristorante Salon, but luckily my Italian had much improved by then. The waiter, Matteo, brought the bottle, I drank a glass, and that was the amount that appeared on my check.

Back to our dinner at Al Cantuccio: we had finished our meal, having enjoyed a glass of wine each. When the check came, we were surprised to see the charge for the entire bottle. I considered arguing the point, but given that my Italian was still far from fluent—and the fact that a bottle was truly a bargain at only 10 euros—I chose instead to finish the bottle myself. So, as Mike was paying the check, I hastily chugged down the last couple glasses, feeling slightly naughty as I did so. It was a fun and tipsy stroll back to our hotel!

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Castello di DuinoAfter a couple slices of putizza—a spiral cake filled with chocolate, dried fruit, and nuts that we had purchased at Pasticceria Penso the day before—Mike and I headed out to Piazza Oberdan to catch bus #44 to Duino. The ride took about 50 minutes; we had contemplated getting off at Sistiana (the town just before Duino) in order to walk along the Rilke Path to Castello di Duino, but since we didn’t spot the road signs for Sistiana until it was too late, we went ahead and visited the castle first.

Dating back to the early 15th century, Castello di Duino is best known as the home of the royal Thurn und Taxis family during the 19th century. Today, it houses a museum full of princely memorabilia, including a piano once played by Liszt and a massive dollhouse that belonged to Princess Eugénie of Greece and Denmark. Although the yellow-walled castle is not nearly as striking as Castello di Miramare, the two do share some similarities. Both are perched on a cliff overlooking the sparkling sea and surrounded by lush, manicured gardens. While Miramare’s gardens are much more expansive, Duino’s network of pathways, lined with cypress trees and statues, is ideal for a romantic stroll.

Rilke PathAfter touring the castle, we walked down to the harbor to Ristorante Alla Dama Bianca for lunch. The sunny weather was perfect for sitting at an outdoor table overlooking the water. First, we shared an appetizer of frutti di mare gratinati (scallops, razor clams, and mussels baked with a bread crumb topping). Next, I had ravioli filled with shrimp and tossed with melted butter and poppy seeds, while Mike had orecchiette with shrimp and tomato sauce.

After lunch, we made our way back up to the castle and found the entrance to the Sentiero Rilke. The path was named after the poet Rainer Maria Rilke, who was a frequent guest of Princess Maria von Thurn und Taxis. It is said that Rilke penned the beginning to his famous Duino Elegies while wandering along the sea cliffs near the castle on a dark and stormy day.

SistianaBeginning at Castello di Duino, the path hugged the meandering coastline all the way to Sistiana. Shady pine forests alternated with breathtaking vistas—of evergreen shrubs clinging to the rock face and precipitous, white limestone cliffs plunging into the sea, all set against a pristine backdrop of sea and sky. The trail finally emerged upon a sapphire blue bay dotted with sailboats. As the access to the path was hidden in the trees behind a campground there, it is perhaps fortunate that we missed Sistiana on our way that morning, for we may never have found the entrance.

Back in Trieste for dinner, we stumbled upon what has become one of my favorite restaurants in the region—Ristorante La Tecia. Partly it is their creative take on regional cuisine and their rotating menu of local dishes, but even more so I have come to appreciate the casual and welcoming atmosphere. It was a spot I returned to many times on future trips, always feeling comfortable dining alone—and even once accompanied by my four-year-old son.

On this particular evening, we were seated at an outside table in the middle of Via San Nicolò. I started with the salame all’aceto balsamico (slices of salami cooked in vinegar and onions and served with polenta), while Mike had the orzotto (barley cooked “risotto-style”) with artichokes and smoked ricotta cheese. Next, I had a rollata di crespelle (crêpes rolled up jellyroll-style with nettles, ricotta, and bread crumbs), and Mike finished with bocconcini di struzzo (cubes of ostrich—yes, ostrich yet again) with a sauce of gin and tarragon. We also shared a plate of verdure in tecia (sautéed vegetables) that has given the restaurant its name—a tecia is a cast iron skillet. At La Tecia, the assortment of vegetables varies with the season; this evening it included peas, red bell peppers, zucchini, cabbage, and potatoes.

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me and mikeIt’s time to introduce my husband, Mike. Although we were not yet married at the time of this trip, we had been dating for about seven years. Mike had joined me in Udine the night before, and we were taking the train to Trieste first thing in the morning. As the train was pulling into the station, we noticed masses of cyclists racing along Viale Miramare. Apparently, the Giro d’Italia bike race was in progress.

piatto misto at Buffet Da PepiWe made our way to the nearby Hotel Italia where we had reservations, dropped off our bags, and went back out into the chaos. Many streets were blocked off to traffic, and crowds of onlookers filled the squares and sidewalks. Before long, we opted for an early lunch and ducked into one of my favorite spots, Buffet Da Pepi. Given how much Mike loves all things pork, I had been waiting several years to introduce him to their piatto misto, a pig-shaped platter of assorted types of pork—including ham, bacon, sausage, and tongue—served with sauerkraut, mustard, and freshly grated horseradish. We also split a bowl of liptauer cheese, which was served with slices of rye bread. As I later learned in Vienna, liptauer is typically mixed with a number of savory ingredients such as onion, anchovies, capers, mustard, pickles, parsley, chives, and caraway seeds, as well as paprika, which colors the dish a vivid pinkish orange. In Trieste, however, I always found liptauer to be white in color; at Buffet Da Pepi, the cheese was light and fluffy with a strangely bitter flavor.

Pasticceria PensoAfter lunch, we crossed the vast Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia, which was jammed with parked cars and people milling about the various kiosks. Our next stop was Pasticceria Penso, where I had made friends with the Stoppar family on my last visit to Trieste. Antonello was working, and after a brief chat—it was nearly time for the bakery to close for the afternoon—we bought two pastries to share: a slice of dobostorte (Hungarian sponge cake layered with chocolate buttercream and topped with caramel) and a granatina (a triangle of chocolate mousse reminiscent of the Hungarian cake called rigojancsi). We ate our treats a couple blocks away at the Molo dei Bersaglieri while waiting for the boat to Castello di Miramare.

The ride took nearly an hour, but it was well worth it to approach the castle from the sea. Even though the sky was overcast, the whitewashed Miramare was an imposing sight, perched on its promontory overlooking the dark, churning waters. From the harbor of Grignano, it was a short walk uphill to the castle’s entrance. As soon as we arrived, it started raining—this was the second time it had rained on me there, and I would have to wait and get those elusive “blue sky” pictures another day.

Castello di MiramareWe stayed only long enough to tour the castle’s lavish apartments. Miramare was home to Archduke Maximilian (brother of the Hapsburg emperor Franz Joseph) and his young wife, Carlotta of Belgium—that is, until Maximilian was captured and executed in Mexico. From the outside, the castle’s stark white façade appears to be taken straight from the pages of a fairytale. Inside, the rooms are decorated with sumptuous furnishings, all dating back to the mid-19th century. There were Chinese- and Japanese-style drawing rooms, an enormous red and gold throne room, a library containing around seven thousand books, Maximilian’s study designed in the style of a ship’s cabin, and a music room where Carlotta often played the piano. We had planned on taking the bus back to Trieste, but after waiting for some time, we realized it wasn’t running, most likely due to the bike race. Fortunately, we were able to catch a return boat.

That evening for dinner, I was thrilled to finally have a dining companion, so we splurged on the elegant (and expensive!) Ristorante Al Bagatto. I started with the zuppa di pesce (fish soup), which was unusual—at least in my experience—in that the mussels, clams, and other shellfish had already been shelled. Mike ordered his all-time favorite pasta dish, spaghetti alla carbonara.

Next, even though it was not on the menu, I requested scampi alla busara. The menu did list spaghetti alla busara, but I was more interested in trying the seafood without the pasta, since it was on my lengthy list of recipes to try. The chef was happy to accommodate my wishes, and served a plate of langoustines alla busara—in a light sauce of tomatoes, garlic, and parsley. The shellfish were tricky to pick apart, not to mention super messy. Although they were extremely delicious, it was almost not worth the effort for the miniscule amount of meat inside.

While it was gratifying to cross off another dish from my list, I felt envious of Mike’s yummy-looking plate of fritto misto. Never before had I seen such teeny tiny creatures deep fried in my life! Fortunately for me, Mike has always been generous when it comes to food. Exquisitely crisp, those morsels of baby octopus and tiny fish crunched like popcorn and burst with the saltiness of the sea.

By the time we left the restaurant, rain was pouring down in sheets, and the wind was blowing the drops practically sideways. We were drenched by the time we reached our hotel. Nevertheless, I was overjoyed to finally be sharing Italy with the love of my life.

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Castello di GoriziaThe first time I visited Gorizia, it was a bitterly cold February morning, the sky overcast and gloomy with the threat of impending snow. Now that it was May, conditions were perfect to get my essential—and oft sought-after—“blue sky” shots of the city. I took the train from Udine, and even though it was only mid-morning when I arrived, the sun had already begun to beat down with fierce intensity.

After stopping for a photo of the onion-domed Chiesa di Sant’Ignazio, I headed directly to the hilltop Castello di Gorizia, whose entrance was guarded by a rather morose-looking winged lion of Saint Mark. As I made my way through the medieval castle’s three floors, I encountered few tourists but hordes of schoolchildren. Among the rooms were a kitchen, dining room, chapel, and numerous exhibits of weaponry. The castle’s ramparts afforded a splendid view of the surrounding countryside, even across the border into neighboring Slovenia.

Chiesa di Sant'IgnazioFor lunch, I chose Ristorante Rosenbar based on the description in my guidebook, Ristoranti, Osterie e Frasche del Friuli–Venezia Giulia by Ermanno Torossi, which listed a number of Mitteleuropean dishes at the restaurant. It was therefore a surprise to find that the menu consisted primarily of seafood.

I started with the baccalà mantecato, simply because I find this creamy salt cod purée irresistible. Unfortunately, the portion was rather miniscule, served on a couple cut-out circles of dry white bread. Next, I had the sardoni apanadi (breaded sardines). Locally called sardoni barcolani, these are actually European anchovies—not true sardines—and are plentiful in the waters off Trieste. Butterflied, breaded, and fried, these tiny fish were accompanied by two pieces of asparagus.

For dessert, I wanted to try the koch di semolino con mele (semolina cake with apples) that was listed on the menu, but the waitress informed me that it wasn’t available. So on my way back to the train station, I found a fantastic bakery and bought a slice of kugelhopf. Often called cuguluf in Friuli, this cake is baked in a Bundt pan and may contain raisins, nuts, or a swirl of chocolate. Of course, I chose the chocolate-marbled version.

For dinner that evening, I returned to Udine’s Osteria Al Vecchio Stallo. For the very first time—since my previous trips to Friuli had all been in winter—I was seated in the restaurant’s outdoor courtyard. With a bucolic grapevine-covered trellis overhead, the area provided a tranquil escape from the noise of the city streets. I started with the gnocchi verdi: green, herb-flecked dumplings that were quite rich and doughy. This was followed by salted herring served with onions and polenta. For dessert, I ordered the gubana, a dried fruit- and nut-filled spiral cake that the restaurant served bagnata—soaked in grappa.

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