Yesterday I went for a walk or rather a slide. It was extremely icy outside. The glass-like ice was covered with ice melt and exciting to walk on. Exciting like "OOH look, here comes a polar bear. I hope he doesn't put his dirty paws on my seal-skin jacket.". I spent most of the day reading cookbooks, Italian cookbooks. They reinforce the sadness of living here with the paucity of veal in the market. Ahh veal. For someone that likes Italian food as much as I do, Providence is the only place to live. There is a street, Atwell's Avenue, that is covered with Italian restaurants and stores. It makes the North End of Boston seem like McDonalds. There is even a store that sells only veal. There is also Tony's Colonial Market. Tony's has every thing Italian from the tiny red onions to buffalo mozzerella and real Italian Fontina. Fifty different cheese and twenty kinds of sausage are a joy to behold. I have fond memories of Providence, especially that little pizza place at the bottom of the hill with the beautiful orange velour lamps. Artichoke pizza, what a treat!
A thought just came to mind. I read a cookbook once written by the man considered to be the ultimate authority on Italian food. He said "If you want to have authentic Italian cuisine in America, first buy a small farm in Tuscany.". Wouldn't that be nice. Olives, tomatoes, a truck garden, a pig, a cow, chickens, pigeons, rabbits, grapes. and a buxom Italian nona to help with the language. Plenty of cheese, wine, gelato, and Crestor.
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