travelswithalice

August 22, 2006

Verona

Verona

Due Torri Baglioni’s medieval architecture and elegant décor keep it at the top of Verona’s hotel hierarchy. Sadly, service is clearly not a priority. At the reception hall, there is a lot of loud banter among the hotel staff in their smart dark blue uniforms while they studiously ignore hotel guests who wander about looking lost.

Next door to the hotel is a gem of a restaurant. It looks like a cheap sandwich bar from the outside but quite nice inside. Great for dinners before the opera, away from the crowds and the extortionist paninis and pizzas on the main square.

Sunday lunch at Osteria Sottoriva gave us a peak into local life. Clearly a favorite with the residents, the place was lively, friendly, and full. While we waited for a table, I stood at the bar and watched closely as the barman made sprizzato. A shot of Cynar (an artichoke-based liqueur), spritz of spumante, splash of San Pellegrino, an orange slice, and lots of ice. I’ll surely try this next time we have a party at home.

We finally got a table outside, in the cool shadows under the arcaded portico that lines one side of the street. We sat there for a long time contemplating the menu, drinking our sprizzatos, and watching the world go by.

A walking tour slowly rounded the corner from the bright, sunny lane beside the bar. They fanned themselves with their hats as they trickled past us, the younger and fitter taking the lead, followed by the older ones, then after a long interval, a few unhappy stragglers huffing and puffing, urged on by their flag-wielding guide.

A street vendor offered her wares from a huge wicker basket, a virtual boutique, that she balanced quite effortlessly on her head .

The local boys and girls lounged and flirted.

Lunch was simple, typical regional fare, as pretty Michaela proclaimed. She had pulled up a chair when she heard our brave attempt at ordering our meal, sat at our table, and proceeded to explain the menu. In Italian, no subtitles, but illustrated with elaborate gestures, all the while smiling her mysterious smile, her hair pinned close to her head in a 1930s sort of way, her red and white polka dot dress all frilly and floaty.

We managed to decipher a few key things: horsemeat and lentil salad.

When we asked for coffee, she smiled warmly but shook her head and said,“Vino, pane, bierre. No café.”

No coffee? Are we not in Italy? She did present us though with complimentary thimbles of coffee flavored cream topped with chocolate. It tasted like tiramisu.