Ferrara

We had a day until we needed to be in Parma for the Proscuitto festival so we decided to go to Ferrara. What a great little town. Not far from Bologna, nearer to the Adriatic, still in Emilia-Romogna. We got a nice little hotel right in the medieval center. The narrow cobblestone streets, a castle with a moat smack in the middle of town and 90% of the populace riding around on bikes all combine to create a magical storybook atmosphere. It has been Brookes favorite town so far and I wont disagree with her (I cant find the apostrophe on this keyboard if you havent noticed). Bologna was a little bigger and bustling than we expected and this was a nice change of pace. Not many tourists and just oozing with charm. No priceless works of art, but a feeling of really being in Italy.

While walking around we noticed an old wine shop. We passed it up and then decided to go back in. It looked like it hadnt changed since the turn of the century. Old wine bottles from floor to ceiling, old pictures, wooden antiquey stuff and just for good measure a flourescent green bottle of absinthe. There was also a little bar where we got our first Prosecco of the trip, man it was good. Now, sitting around for a minute we saw the guy preparing some food and chatting with the old timers that were filtering in. Now, what is Prosecco without some cheese. I ordered a cheese plate and our minds were blown. It was a Pecorino served with salt and pepper. Now, I always thought Pecorino was one kind of cheese, a drier, aged cheese with a consistency close to parmesean. We learned that there are about 50 kinds of Pecorino. From the fresca variety to the aged one we were familiar with. This one was aged a few months, just enough to give it some flavor but still keeping a creamy texture. It was a bit like a mild creamy aged cheddar mixed with a touch of parmesean. It was by far the best cheese either of us had ate. What a great little find, and to think we almost passed it up.

On our Prosecco and cheese high, we decided to go out for a nice romantic seafood dinner. We found a little place nearby with a pretty wicked looking seafood menu. It was dark and romantic, old stone walls with a stone well in the building, but finished in a modern fashion with white tablecloths and an attentive waitstaff. We sat down and they rolled a fresh fish cart towards us. I have never seen anything like this before. There were a bunch of fish that I could not recognize and they were jabbering in Italian and showing us each one and I can only guess describing it. We ordered some appetizers and put off the intimidating process of fish ordering. We got some Adriatic oysters and a swordfish and salmon carpaccio. The oysters where a little more compact than Gulf oysters. A little sweeter and a little saltier, but nothing like the sharp, bold taste of the Pacific variety. Real good overall, albiet pricey. No horseradish though. Heathens. The carpaccio was delicious, thin slices of really fresh fish on a bed of greens.

So they rolled the seafood cart back and I picked out a fish he seemed to recommend. Brooke steered clear of the hornets nest and got some of the local speciality, homemade pasta stuffed with pumpkin/cheese and a cream sauce. It sounds a bit weird but it was really good, with the sweet and savory flavors mixing well. The fish was absolutely perfect. Breaded and baked it was tender, white and flaky. Great dinner overall, but when the bill came, oh boy. This is no South Louisiana all you can eat seafood platter prices. The fish was priced per hectagram so there was no real good way to know what it would cost. Lets just say that renting a boat and two guides for a day of fishing in Pacific Mexico and catching our own fish was a cheaper alternative. No worries, it was romantic and delicious, and when the hell are we going to be in Ferrarra again.

The next day our hotel lent us some bikes and we cruised around the city. Riding on and around the medieval walls surrounding the city. We passed through a garden/park area and snatched a couple of purple grapes and a fig that were just too tempting to pass up. Passing through the narrow streets with all the other bikers, we felt like part of the crew. Now everyone in this city rides bikes. They ride while smoking, talking on a cell phone and we even saw a guy eating gelato riding his bike with no hands. It was really a great little diversion. We checked out the castle and then hit the road to Parma, Proscuitto festival here we come.