Tag Archives: Restaurants

Itty-bitty fried pizzas magically appeared at our table.

 

It is very, very hard to find a good, reasonably priced meal in Amalfi. Most places we went to were subpar. They could afford to be – they’d have a steady stream of tourists coming in regardless of the quality of the food. There were a few more restaurants that were staggeringly well-reviewed, but also absurdly ridiculous.

But what if you don’t want fancy? Or expensive? What if you just want good food at a reasonable price? And hey – cozy and candlelit with a charming waiter looks like a well-fed version of Ralph Macchio circa Karate Kid II wouldn’t be bad, either?

Then you should probably go to Taverna Buonvicino.

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Good thing I don’t drink, or we would have had to sell my car to afford it.

 

We should have learned from our experience back in Frigento that Google Maps could not be trusted in Southern Italy, but it was around the time we reached Positano that the lesson hit home. We’d spent the better part of the afternoon looking for a restaurant that Rand had read about, and found that it was nowhere near where the map had said. In fact, it didn’t even seem to be in Positano.

So we struggled to find another restaurant that came well-reviewed, but it had yet to open for the season. Another was open, but when we came in, we were told that they weren’t actually serving food until the following day (this baffled me, and I was at the point of hunger where I wanted to sit them all down and explain to them how Capitalism worked, but Rand wisely led me away).

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Italian lunchtimes proved difficult for us. Jet lag meant we weren’t hungry until 3 pm or so, and by then, everything was closed. So we spent most afternoons wandering around in a fog of hanger, snapping at each other until we found a gelateria to hold us off until dinner. It wasn’t our finest travel moment.

By the time we left Villa Rufolo, we found that it was once again too late for lunch. The first few restaurants we stopped by were closed until 5pm.

 

Miraculously, though, Trattoria Cumpa Cosimo was open. I can’t remember how we found it – if Rand had managed to get enough cell phone reception up in Ravello to look it up, or if it was just dumb luck. But when we tried the door, it yielded, and when I nervously asked a waitress if the kitchen was still open, she looked at me like I had inquired if they had walls.

“Of course,” she said.

So please, mark this one in your notes, folks: there is a place in Ravello where a starving pair of jet lagged tourists can eat lunch at 3 pm. And it’s quite good, actually.

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It’s a little distressful when your favorite restaurant in Munich topples from the pedestal on which you’ve placed it. It’s like when you encounter your first love again, years after the fact. You find that his voice is higher than you remember, or his eyes lack that trademark twinkle, and you start to wonder: did he change, or did you?

Guido al Duomo was once my favorite restaurant in Munich. It is no longer. Don’t get me wrong: it is still very good, but it is now packed to the gills and the prices have risen dramatically.

This is likely the last dish I’ll ever eat at Guido. I am both heartbroken and entirely okay with this.

 

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Things never seem to turn out how I imagine they will.

I don’t know if it’s because my expectations are too lofty, or if they aren’t lofty enough. But on some trips, things don’t quite fall into place. Nothing is how I envisioned it to be.

Later, I scroll through my photos and find that several which I thought were crystal clear are blurry and out of focus. There is some weird poetry in that, isn’t there? That not even my pictures are how I pictured them?

The Friday before last in Portland was one of those days. Things were not as I had anticipated. And that turned out to be a wonderful thing. (more…)

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I am a sucker for good barbecue. There isn’t a lot of it in Washington, at least not in Seattle. I suppose it’s so cold and grey here that no one wants to stand outside next to a smoker for several hours.

Or maybe it’s because there are a lot of folks out there who are trying to bed one of those sexy Seattle vegetarians, and they figure smelling like meat won’t help them do that (OR WOULD IT?).

The point is: Seattle has very little barbecue.  So whenever we’re traveling, and find that there’s a good BBQ restaurant nearby, we go.

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If you have had a rough night (or perhaps several of them in a row) and you find yourself in Northern Liberties, in Philadelphia, I suggest you go to Honey’s Sit-N-Eat for breakfast.

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Rand is currently out of town (he left on Sunday morning, and he’ll be back tonight). His absence makes me nervous, because when he is not around, it means that I am alone.

Now, that wouldn’t be a problem except for this: I should not be left alone, ever. Being alone means that I am in charge of my own well-being – a task for which I am woefully unqualified. If I am the only person in the house, I can do whatever I like and there will be no one around to stop me from doing dangerous and calorically irresponsible things, usually while still in my pjs.

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