When in Rome eat as the Romans do

Buon giorno! Flink checking in from Rome. I am not going to tell you all about how great Italy is, or all the fun things I have done so far (trust me, there are lots!), but instead I am going to describe the most important aspect of my travels... food.

I suppose the logical place to start would be on the airplane. A little background first. I am on an Italian vacation with Pappa Bear, Momma Bear, I-Money, Woodrow, Wibbitz, Little Red, and Q-Tip. The entire Flinkey family met at LR and Q's place to meet our limo (Momma Bear had a groupon!). We took the limo to the airport and got on our plane. Of course I made friends on the plane. The entire flight crew knew me by the end of the flight, as well as all of the people around me. The four people sitting in between Wibbitz and myself and Woodrow and I-Money were a couple (around Mamma and Pappa Bear's age) that met in college at Pitt and were taking their parents on vacation. When my friends on the flight crew brought around dinner, we had the choice of pasta or chicken, and beer or wine. I decided to go with the chicken, which apparently was a good move. Although it was pretty crappy, from what Q-Tip told me the spaghetti was some of the worst food he's eaten in his almost 80 years of life. I am not sure what my friends next to me ate, but it couldn't have been good...

About three hours into our flight, I-Money saw the daughter in my group of friends jump up like she had to pee real bad. Great, someone is going to pee their pants (haha). Surprisingly, she came back seconds later with four flight attendants. Apparently, moments before Mom passed out and began seizing. Yes, you read that correctly. She was seizing on an airplane. Apparently my friend's mom had a motion sickness patch on AND drank alcohol on the plane while eating lousy airplane food. After half of first class came to assist with their medical expertise (I was tempted to lie about my credentials and help, but a life was on the line) my friend's mom survived and we did not have to make an emergency landing in the middle of the Atlantic. Moral of the story, don't drink and fly.

That same day we went for our first Italian dinner in a very crowded and touristy street. We sat down and gave our order to the waiter, who told us we couldn’t order eight different dishes because the chef cannot handle the order. What type of a restaurant was this? We eventually all decided on a few dishes to share (not me, I got my own dish) and ate a pretty mediocre dinner. I will not be returning there. 

The next few meals were some of the best of my life. Breakfast is included in our hotel, but unlike The Hampton Inn, this breakfast was magnificent (I-Money may disagree, she loves the Hampton Inn). Eggs, Italian meats, pastries, and blood orange juice. Yum. It was so good that we stole some snacks for the rest of the day. Later that day, we went to the Vatican to have a guided tour. Once you enter the Vatican, you need to go through a metal detector so they know you are not carrying anything you shouldn't be carrying. I was stopped not once, but twice walking through the metal detector. On my third try, I took out 20+ nutella packets from my pocket and walked through the detector beep free. Pro Tip: Nutella packets have metallic labels and can be mistaken for guns by the Vatican police.

Lunch every day has been a pizzeria, and I have found pizza better than NY pizza. There, I said it. Thin crusts and delicious sauce. Great pizza. Well done Italy, well done. The other constant from every day has been gelati. I have never tasted anything as delicious as the gelati from the shop next to our hotel. I can easily say it is the best thing I have ever eaten, and will deeply miss it when we leave.  

For dinner last night and tonight, we went to a restaurant on the same street as our hotel. I-Money and Woodrow went there during their honeymoon and recommended it to us. Boy was it good. If any of you are ever in Italy and want to be respected by your wait staff, order oxtail. Not only was it delicious, but every waiter came up to me and told me I was a real man, and that oxtail will put hair on your chest (little did they know I already have hair on my chest). I felt like a god amongst men. Good feeling, you should try it some time. 

I failed to mention that at every restaurant, Wibbitz has befriended a waiter who wants her to stay in Rome and live with them. My favorite was Hugo, he made great pizza, but he kind of looked like someone sat on his face (sorry Hugo). Who she will choose I have no idea, but I am looking forward to returning to Rome for the wedding.

In summary, someone almost died on my plane, I made a fool out of myself in the Vatican, Wibbitz is getting married, and we ate some pretty amazing food. Italy is pretty, pretty good.

Flinkey out.

PS: Sorry for no longer having flinkey fish on right side of the blog. Flinkey.com got mad that I illegally stole their logo and told Google on me so I had to take it down.

Flinkey out, again.