Tuesday, August 31, 2010

elvis has left the building.

August 24th 2010. I get on a plane to Naples, Italy (henceforth to be correctly referred to as Napoli) via Paris. Long plane rides suck. 

Napoli is fabulous, however. Most people I spoke to expressed surprise that I intended to spend four days in Napoli. It has an undeserved reputation for being a dirty city, run down and rampant with petty crime. Guide books advise tourists not to carry bags of any kind and venture out to the Centro Storico only in daylight. This is bullshit. Napoli is a vibrant, exciting city. The metro system is clean and brand new, no one tried to steal my purse, and I found the Neopolitans I met far friendlier than Parisians or Londoners, though certainly apt to try to sucker you out of a few euro onto top of a cab fare. If you can hack Washington DC, you'll have no trouble with Napoli. 

And the food is great. I am laboring under less than ideal conditions in terms of eating well in Napoli, since most restaurants (and even most businesses in general) shut down for a few weeks in August. The three best-regarded pizza places in town were all closed (I went to all 3, no joy). I've got plans to return for the Festival of San Gennaro, the patron saint of Napoli, when the pizza places will most certainly be open. I've tried the pizzza in a few places, and it's fine. Even good, but not the superlative pizza specimen that I'd been hoping to find in the world capital of pizza. 

In any case, I had one of the best pastas I've ever tasted in a little trattoria on the wharf across from our hotel. The place is Da Patrizia, and the gnocci alla sorrentina was executed perfectly. The dumplings themselves were cooked correctly, had bite and texture but were yielding to the tooth. Simple, incredibly fresh tomato sauce from San Marzano tomatoes. This sauce wasn't cooked down for hours, like the marinara you find in America, but still tasted of bright, fresh, acidic tomatoes. Gooey, melted mozzerella di buffala and a sprig of fresh basil. Simple but perfect. We drank Falanghina dei Campi Flegirei, a high acid, citrus-y, local white wine, sitting at a little table by the water in the shadow of a giant old castle whose history I've yet to investigate. A contender (well, a long shot but still) for the perfect meal: simple, well-executed, in a great setting, with the right beverage.