By foodmappin on Skatehive
Forget the museums. I came for the food. There is no such thing as a bad meal in this country. I’m convinced of it. *Rome I ate carbonara in a tiny trattoria where the owner yelled at a tourist for asking for parmesan. "It is pecorino or nothing." He was right. I’ve never tasted anything so simple and so perfect. Eggs. Cheese. Guanciale. Pepper. That’s it. Magic. Florence I stood at a counter with a glass of red wine and ate a lampredotto sandwich. It’s the fourth stomach of a cow, slow-cooked until it falls apart. Sounds terrible. Tastes like heaven. The locals were laughing at my face when I took the first bite. They knew. Naples The pizza changed me. Not the fancy stuff. A margherita from a place with paper plates and plastic cups. The crust was burnt in spots, soft in others. The cheese was actual pools of liquid. I sat on a curb and ate it with my hands like I had somewhere to be. I didn’t. The Real Lesson* The best meals weren't on Instagram. They were down side streets. In place