Day in Genoa

Okay, I just posted yesterday, but this day in Genoa was great, and I'd love to share it. It seems to be a neglected city on the tourist circuit, so I'm REALLY glad Jona requested including it. We left with a short agenda for the day, and swimmingly completed all, beginning with a walk along the waterfront, from the port terminals behind our hotel and continuing to the heart of the city. The beeline destintation was Da Maria's Trattoria, which (our hero,NYT food writer Mark Bittman) describes thus, about visiting Genoa: "I'll start with Maria, because it's one of my favorite restaurants in the world. I must, however, issue a caution: this is really a workingman's lunch place, a dive, a cheap eats joint..If you are in the neighborhood - by which I mean anywhere in Genoa - and you're not prissy, this is a fabulous option." He mentioned that you could make reservations, but it wasn't necessary, and if you did, you'd find your name on a paper napkin at a table. We went about 1:30, and the place was hopping. We were pointed to a long table (five chairs on either side)and people had to move to let us in, as we later got up to let people move into or away from new places. The menu was completely in Italian, hand-written and xeroxed for the day, and about four minutes after we placed our order, the plates of food were in front of us. These folks know what to plan for. When we finished, we went to the woman at the counter, told her everything we'd had (pasta fagiole, Genovese style pesto, fried anchovies, 1/4 litre red wine, and acqua naturelle)and she listened, wrote up a bill for 20E and took the money. I can't convey the clamor, the din, and the atmosphere, but may have a picture or two to share at some point.

The next "must find" stop was described by Fred Plotkin (Italy for the Gourmet Traveler): The most famous bakery in Genova was founded by Swiss bakers in 1828. Enticing specialies are displayed in the windows, and it is nearly impossible to walk by. It proudly displays a note from Guiseppe Verdi, who praised a sweet brioche made here, called the Falstaff (("Your Falstaff is better than mine! he cheered.)) Well. When I can send photos, I will. There are chandeliers, gold trimmings, pasteries, a shiny bar one bellies up to (A shiny bar to which one bellies up?) and once the order is placed, one slugs the espresso or whatever, leaning in, then departs in an astonishingly short time. I ordered hot chocolate to Jona's cappuchino, and I tell, you, the spoon nearly stood up in it. I kept snapping photos (with permission of the wait staff), aglow, yet smooth, at the glory of the setting. We're both enjoying the two pastries we picked up there, as I write.

We went to San Lorenzo Cathedral, where the ashes of St. John the Baptist are interred, although as I told my mother, everything is in Italian, so how can we be sure? (There is also a museum here that displays the silver platter on which his head was presented. Puhlease!!) We caught the tail end of the five month Mediterranean exhibit here, that featured Van Gogh, Matisse, Gaugin, Renoir, Monet, and more. It was a stunningly beautiful way to celebrate being in the Mediterranean neighborhood. The Ferrari Piazza with manymanymany fountains and the gelato place, and finally, after the long walk home, getting Doner Kabobs at the Turkish take-away near our hotel, completed the "exterior portion of the day." Have I mentioned that my traveling companion keeps his harmonica in his pocket, and occasionally serenades our route? Paradise has many dimensions!

(Oh, yeh, today's gelato came from an accidental find in a park on the way home, a tuckaway bar/patissiere/gelateria that opened in 1905.)