I was 14 and my middle school was going to Italy. On the plane from London to Milan, the businessman next to me flirted with me until he asked my grade. Mortified, he stayed silent the rest of the trip. Once we landed down in the dusky twilight, it was tourist locations all over the map. In a village outside Cinque Terre we where shuttled inside our hotel, where later two girls would blow the fuse trying to straighten their hair. That meal was served in the hotel dining room, all beiges and red with formal wooden chairs and a veranda overlooking the ocean, the food served family style. The first dish settled in front of us was pesto pasta. The green oil stained the white china with swirling drops, and the first bite into my mouth was like a supernova in my mouth. It sparkled upon the taste buds, and left not flavor but sensation. Every last bit was devoured, and I don't remember the other parts of the meal. I cannot tell you was the pasta tasted like, only I will never have something that good again.
Hi Colleen,
ReplyDeleteI had a similar experience in Rome. We got served tiramisu, and I assumed it was just cake. I nearly choked on the first bit because the flavor was so strong, but I ended up loving it, and even stealing someone else's because they didn't want it. Definitely the best part of the meal.