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Despite the unseasonably warm weather, the radiator in my apartment had remained on all night long. The blankets that I had, in my feverish state, piled on myself the afternoon before were now tossed in a pile at the foot of my bed. Even so, I slept soundly—except for a disturbing dream about missing my alarm. When my alarm woke me reliably at 6:30am, I was relieved to find my cold to be much better, with no lingering trace of food poisoning. I did have a bit of a sinus headache, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me from taking one final day trip from Trieste.

During nearly every one of my trips to Friuli, a day trip to Venezia was requisite. Even though it’s one of the most touristy cities in Italy, I can’t help ranking it my favorite place in the world. Admittedly, there’s much to dislike about Venezia. Well, actually just one thing: the incessant masses of people that descend upon the city, particularly during Carnevale, Christmas, and summertime. These noisy, unrelenting crowds have made many of my visits less than enjoyable, and sometimes downright miserable. On this particular October day, I would happily be avoiding the high seasons that I had landed amidst in years prior.

It was another muggy day, quite foggy when I set out first thing in the morning. On my way to Trieste’s train station, it even began to sprinkle a little. Fortunately, the sky had cleared by the time I arrived at Venezia Santa Lucia station around 11:00am. Unlike my other recent day trips, I had no agenda at all, other than to wander aimlessly and to eat plenty of cicchetti.

Following the well-worn path through the Cannaregio and across the Rialto Bridge, I ended up at Cantina Do Mori. Established in 1462, it is officially the oldest bacaro in Venezia. There, I had a glass of prosecco with a plate of assorted cicchetti: velvety grilled eggplant, crispy fried zucchini, a savory polpetta (meatball), crostini topped with creamy baccalà mantecato (puréed salt cod), and a succulent crab claw.

From there, I wandered through the fish market, stopping frequently to admire all the beautiful seafood. On my last trip, having followed a similar route, I remember wishing that I had had an apartment, so that I could take some mussels or baby octopus home to cook. This time, I did have an apartment in Trieste, but I was dissuaded by the mere fact that any fish I bought would remain unrefrigerated for the entire afternoon, including the two-hour train ride back. (Five years later, that dream of being able to shop in the fish market would finally come to fruition, when my family rented an apartment in Venezia for the Christmas holidays!)

I crossed back over the Rialto Bridge and wound my way through San Marco. Across the Accademia Bridge, I headed straight for my favorite bacaro, Cantinone Già Schiavi. There, I had another glass of prosecco with another plate of assorted cicchetti. Già Schiavi specializes in crostini (or sometimes referred to there as crostoni), those little slices of bread with various toppings. I chose toppings of baccalà mantecato, sarde in saor (marinated sardines), and salsa tartara di tonno e cacao amaro (tuna salad sprinkled with cocoa powder).

Instead of venturing back into the fray of the more lively neighborhoods, I spent some time strolling through the relatively tranquil alleys of the Dorsoduro. When I tired of walking, I found a bench on the Zattere, the promenade that runs along the southern shore of the Dorsoduro. I sat there awhile, gazing across the water toward the island of Giudecca. In contrast to the tight, confined alleys, out here in the wide-open space, I could relish the cool breezes drifting off the lagoon.

After my brief respite, I headed back across the Accademia Bridge, where I came upon a man playing the saxophone for tips. The melody was hauntingly beautiful and literally brought a few tears to my eyes. I dropped a €2 coin into his hat and continued on to Chiesa di San Vidal, where my mom and I had attended a performance by the string ensemble Interpreti Veneziani the previous winter.

Having seen the group on several previous trips, my mom had a growing collection of their CDs. On our trip together, I had stopped in to buy her a couple of CDs for Christmas, but not remembering which albums she already owned, I asked the attendant which ones were the newest. With cheerful courtesy, she pointed out their two most recent releases, which I bought. This time, still not recalling which ones my mom owned, I repeated my question. I recognized the attendant to be the same woman as before, but now she looked at me as if I had just asked the most idiotic question on Earth. Even though I spoke Italian, she responded tersely in English, “None of them are new! They are classical music, not rock!” Sigh. So I just picked one at random to purchase—happily, it turned out to have been a good choice.

It was mid-afternoon by now, so I began making my way back to the train station, aiming to arrive in time to catch the 4:10pm train. Inevitably, though not at all regrettably, I got myself turned around in circles. As long as there was no great urgency, I always rather enjoyed the experience of getting lost in Venezia.

I made it to the station just before 4:00pm to find that an earlier train was running late, and I had just enough time to catch that one. My headache had never completely gone away all day, so I was glad for the chance to sit and stare out the window for the duration of the ride back to Trieste.

I arrived back in my apartment by 6:30pm, in time to fix a bite to eat. As my days in Trieste were drawing to a close, I hadn’t bothered to stock up on many groceries. I was out of bread and had no more fresh fruits or vegetables. I made myself a scrambled egg, accompanied by a hunk of cheese and some leftover sautéed eggplant.

Most evenings I had been eating an apple after dinner, but since I had no more fresh fruit, I decided to finally open the single can of pineapple I had bought on my first trip to the mini supermercato nearly three weeks earlier. My cans of tuna had had pull-tops, so this was my first time using the apartment’s can opener. With growing frustration, I found that the gears wouldn’t turn and the blade wouldn’t even clamp down onto the can. Turning the piece-of-shit can opener sideways, I managed to clamp it down tightly enough to puncture the side of the can. Repeating this, I slowly poked holes all the way around, until I was able to remove the lid.

But after all that effort, I found the pineapple to be cloyingly sweet, with the unpleasant texture of rubber. I just couldn’t force myself to eat it. So I pitched it and instead dug into the putizza I had bought at Pasticceria Bomboniera a few days earlier. With chunks of dark chocolate and rum-soaked raisins spiraling through the tender dough, it was a much better choice for dessert!

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For my Recipe-of-the-Month, I have chosen Pane di Zucca (Butternut Squash Bread), in honor of Venzone’s Festa della Zucca. This bread is one of numerous baked goods featured at the festival, celebrated in the medieval-walled town every October. Visit Flavors-of-Friuli.com for the recipe.

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Having woken up with a stuffy nose and headache—my second cold of the trip—I spent the entire morning in my apartment at Residence Liberty, organizing maps and schedules for my return trip to Vienna the next week. When it was getting towards lunchtime, I walked to the train station and caught the #20 bus to Muggia. I was looking forward to having a good meal at Taverna Cigui, located on the outskirts of Muggia and known for its local Triestine and Istrian cuisine.

Making a guess as to which would be the closest stop, I got off the bus and hiked uphill for 30 minutes to the hamlet of Santa Barbara. I found the farmhouse at the end of a country road, surrounded by vineyards and olive trees. The front door was locked and all seemed to be deserted, except for a loud noise emanating from around the side of the house. I followed the sound to find a woman vacuuming a rug on the porch. Her back was to me, and she obviously couldn’t hear me over the machine, so I waited patiently for her to finish. Finally she turned around, startled to notice me standing there. To my dismay, I learned that the restaurant was closed while the owners were in Austria and wouldn’t reopen until later that week.

Drenched with sweat, partly from the unusually hot, muggy weather and possibly also from a slight fever, I made my way back downhill to the nearest bus stop to return to Trieste. Given my past difficulties trying to find a restaurant that didn’t close on Mondays, I headed immediately to one that I knew would be open, a place I had been to once before: Ristorante Al Granzo.

When I was there the previous year, I had gotten sick after eating their granzievola alla Triestina. But since this was a dish I planned to include in my cookbook Flavors of Friuli: A Culinary Journey through Northeastern Italy, I wanted to sample it one more time before recreating it at home. Still, it was with some apprehension that I took a seat at my table.

To start, I was served a complimentary antipasto: a mini panna cotta topped with one tiny shrimp and a balsamic reduction. The granzievola alla Triestina was just as I remembered: warm crabmeat mixed with garlic, parsley, and bread crumbs, served in the shell of a spiny spider crab. Next, I had the zuppa di pesce, which I noted in my journal was the worst I had ever eaten. The soup contained two mussels, a couple of razor clams, one extremely tough calamaro (squid) stuffed with crabmeat, a bunch of tiny whole shrimp, and some pieces of fish that had an unpleasantly bitter taste.

Not surprisingly, my stomach was sick again after eating at Al Granzo. Whether due to food poisoning or the cold I was fighting, I was feeling quite chilled by the time I got back to my apartment. I spent the rest of the day curled up in bed under all the blankets I could find. I never did get to eat at Taverna Cigui.

Here is my recipe for granzievola alla Triestina:

1/2 cup olive oil
1 cup dry bread crumbs
1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley
1 pound lump crabmeat
1 cup water
1/4 cup lemon juice

Heat the olive oil in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the bread crumbs and parsley; cook and stir until the bread crumbs begin to turn golden brown, about 5 minutes. Stir in the crabmeat, water, and lemon juice; cook until the crabmeat is warm, about 4–5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Season to taste with salt.

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torta di meleFor my Recipe-of-the-Month, I have chosen Torta di Mele (Apple Cake), in honor of the Festa della Mela, celebrated in the town of Tolmezzo every September. Visit Flavors-of-Friuli.com for the recipe.

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For my Recipe-of-the-Month, I have chosen Crostata alla Marmellata (Mixed Berry Jam Tart), in honor of Forni Avoltri’s Festa dei Frutti di Bosco. The dessert table at the festival showcases many cakes and tarts made with wild berries from the surrounding forests—this jam tart is one of my favorites. For my recipe, visit Flavors-of-Friuli.com.

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For my Recipe-of-the-Month, I have chosen Toç in Braide (Polenta with Ricotta Sauce). The creamy polenta in this dish is topped with a simple ricotta sauce and crunchy cornmeal browned in butter. The late Carnian chef Gianni Cosetti suggested serving the dish with asparagus, shaved truffle, or sautéed mushrooms, depending on the season. For my recipe, visit Flavors-of-Friuli.com.

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For my Recipe-of-the-Month, I have chosen Tagliolini al Prosciutto (Tagliolini Pasta with Prosciutto), in honor of Aria di Festa, the prosciutto festival that takes place in San Daniele every June. For my recipe, visit Flavors-of-Friuli.com.

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