Sunday, September 04, 2005
Porchetta at the Festo della Rificolone
Thank you, Pizza e Taglio for running out of pizza. That was the best thing that could have happened tonight. Because of the lack of a one euro slice, my friend and I had to go searching for other food. After a few blocks, we decided to turn. And then we saw it, the Festa della Rificolona. Kids were singing terriblly off-key karaoke and across the piazza stood two food stands.
A large chunk of cooked meat drew my attention. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to have some of it. The carmelized skin was pulled back showing off-white flesh. This oversized hunk of meat, probably about a foot in diameter turned out to be roast pork, or porchetta. Three euros for a panini, I'll have one. Now.
All the sandwich consisted of was this wonder meat and two slices of bread. It was possibly the most flavorful pork I have ever ever ever had. It was plenty moist, enough to overcome the dry Tuscan bread. The sandwich couldn't have been simpler, but any other addition would just ruin that handheld piece of heaven. I've been in Florence for less than a week now, and I'm sure I've only scratched the surface of its sandwiching abilities. This is my kind of city.
A large chunk of cooked meat drew my attention. I had no idea what it was, but I knew I had to have some of it. The carmelized skin was pulled back showing off-white flesh. This oversized hunk of meat, probably about a foot in diameter turned out to be roast pork, or porchetta. Three euros for a panini, I'll have one. Now.
All the sandwich consisted of was this wonder meat and two slices of bread. It was possibly the most flavorful pork I have ever ever ever had. It was plenty moist, enough to overcome the dry Tuscan bread. The sandwich couldn't have been simpler, but any other addition would just ruin that handheld piece of heaven. I've been in Florence for less than a week now, and I'm sure I've only scratched the surface of its sandwiching abilities. This is my kind of city.
