a couple of whores and a big truck.

i spent the last week in italia, with some friends from cube in LA, looking pretty and eating good food for a bon appetit photo shoot. the five days in roma and orvieto were non stop eating and drinking, followed by more eating and drinking, with a few interruptions by cedric angeles and theo morrison, the photographers the magazine sent along.

the title of this post comes from the fact that the vehicle chosen to cart all of our over-stuffed, drunk asses around was an ENORMOUS ducato van. so big that i could stand up inside, reach my hand up, and just barely touch the ceiling.


this photo does not do the ducato justice, but you get the idea. we used this van as transportation, but also to look for prostitutes, hence the other part of the title. the prostitutes in italy are not like the prostitutes in nyc, who can be found on street corners or back rooms. the prostitutes in italy advertise their wares on the HIGHWAY. this, as you can imagine, causes a lot of traffic problems. our favorite italian prostitute was lounging by an exit ramp wearing stilettos, a stone-washed denim jacket, and a thong. not more, not less.

anyway, back to the food and drink. i love italy, if only for those two things. the first day, in rome, we ate at al moro, a roman institution. i had, among other delicacies:


fresh egg pasta with shaved black truffles (yes, those are the truffles on top), before.


and after.


chicory, puttanelle, eggplant parm bomb, and this curly radicchio-esque yumminess.


this is zabaione. with dark chocolate. the best dessert ever. it’s sort of like a whipped, custard, marshmallow pillow that you just want to curl up inside of, except that it is so delicious that you would never have a place to sleep because you would have devoured it long before you lay your head to rest. capice?

ok, next. we also, although i won’t torture you with the photos, ate unbelievable chianina steaks (my medium rare came still moooooing, but after i took one bite, i didn’t mind one bit) at la pergola, that they grilled, with smoked mozzarella balls, over an open fire. we had the chef’s tasting menu, complete with a tour of the kitchen, at vissani. i have never felt so at home and so pampered at one time…even my purse got a little stool to sit on.

there’s so much to tell:


porchetta from the roadside stand.


wild boar (cinghiale) proscuitto with the hair still on at dai fratelli in orvieto.


and cute old italians every where you look.

and then there was the photo shoot (just wait for the may issue of bon appetit):


the food we cooked for it,


us looking pretty for it,


and the crew who made it possible, celebrating in our usual style.

it was craziness, all and all, but worth every second of it. now i am back to business, sick as a dog, and dreaming of “gelati at the duomio, honey.”


~ by bklyncupcake on October 19, 2007.

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