Need I say more? But yet I will. I’m enjoying a week in Istanbul and one highlight is the availability of real seafood. Unfortunately the “seafood” available in Kiev is more like stinky river fish; only God knows what’s in the water. Istanbul is right on the Sea of Marmara so there is no shortage here. Here I’m enjoying a freshly grilled mackerel sandwich by the sea on a cold and blustery winter’s day, and only $3!
Maybe it’s the twenty cent baguettes, perhaps it’s the massive range or even the untypically Ukrainian feeling of space but there is something about the French supermarket chain “Auchan” that draws Kievites by the, seemingly, millions. I’ve never been stuck in a shopping trolley traffic jam long enough before to contemplate that industrial sized supermarkets could be designed to actually be filled with patrons; I just thought the scale was provided to cater to a western appreciation of personal space. My hat goes off, however, to the managment of Auchan for providing an equally ridiculous number of checkouts AND actually staffing them (take that Furshett!!).
This is Blaine. This is me. And this is my dumpster. Fortunately for Blaine, he was in time to experience some of the Kiev “Love” as I call it (not the mail order type). Long queues for simple things, overcrowded buses, no hot water, no running water (on occassions) and general daftness. His slothful presence will be missed.
Firstly, I apologise for the uncharacteristic facebookesque portrait. In early September I accompanied two classes of grade eight students to Crimea and the Black Sea. Yes, the Black Sea is actually. And quite nice for swimming at this time of year. But one piece of advice; don’t go there for the beach, do I really need to explain what a soviet beach front looks like … ?
On the 22nd of August I turned thirty. Lauren and I celebrated the following day with a buffett breakfast at the new Hyatt in Kiev. Any words of wisdom at this early stage in life, you may ask? Find a great woman and don’t waste any time getting married to her; aside from that, the last 30 years are pleasant yet slightly surreal blur.
My last supper in Rome was a sad occassion. Italy was the penultimate stop on our trip and it would be a delicious yet meloncoly farewell. Spaghetti and clams tossed in olive oil and butter with garlic, chilli and garnished with chopped parsley. Sigh.
Every red-blooded male derives a certain amount of pleasure from devouring the flesh of a dead bovine; I am no exception. Florence has a big reputation for doing a great steak and I can vouch for that personally. Whilst training from Bologna to Florence we met a nice bloke, who makes a living selling antique watches, and he recommended us a good restaurant for steak. Unfortunately it was closed for August, like most of Italy, but the owner of a neighbouring cafe was able to direct us to the next best kept secret in well-trodden Florence.
Whilst dining at Ro’ Cocco’s in Bologna I took the liberty of creating my own pizza, in collaberation with the the helpful kitchen staff. This pizza is simply tomato puree, fresh porcini mushrooms, parma ham and mozzarella cooked, of course, in a wood fired pizza oven. After one bite I dubbed it Pizza San Paolo, because it’s so lush it’s worthy sainthood.
Emilia-Romagna has to be one of the prime destinations for lovers of fine cuisine. This region is home to such wonderfully aged delicacies as Parma-Ham, Parmigiano Reggiano and traditional balsamic vinegar. The thing that makes these products so special is that they are all aged to bring out amazing flavours and textures that one has to experience to believe. It’s just a question of time before I return.