Piazza Vanvitelli, Caserta, May 29, 2010—
OSTERIE D'ITALIA LET US down tonight, alas; perhaps not through its own fault. The restaurant it recommended here, the sole reason we checked into a hotel in this town, was utterly unfindable. We knew it was out of town; I looked it up on Google Maps; we had our GPS in the car to help; but after an hour of driving narrow dark hilly curving streets and talking to drunks, old ladies, teenagers on motorbikes and old toothless men, many of whom had no hesitation in sending us in a particular direction (often the exact opposite of the previously stipulated one), we gave up.I felt bad; I'd made a reservation — not in my name, of course; it's too hard to spell here; I use the name "di Carlo" which always works out. I tried repeatedly to call back, first to get directions, then to cancel; their phone never responded.
So we gave it up and went to the Jolly Hotel where, I reasoned, I might get a viable approach to a Martini, it being Saturday night. Wrong, of course: what arrived was a glass of dry vermouth with a splash of gin and a half lemon slice. Refreshing; good even; not a Martini.
And, afterward, a nice plain clean risotto, and then a fricandeau of veal, with rosti potatoes. Nice.
Falanghina, Cantina del Taburno, 2008
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