Firenze & Ravioli.

Florence was lovely yesterday. FLAMING hot, but lovely nonetheless.
As expected, the Uffizi is bursting at the seams with masterpieces (and tourists) and when I was shuffling through crowded halls of humans and cameras, all I wanted to do was pull the fire alarm so everyone would clear out and I could sit in the Botticelli room alone, fawning over the botanical accuracy in Primavera and the Fortress panel (which I pretentiously think should be made a bigger deal of than is). Surely this plan would have worked.

After a few hours in the Uffizi some friends and I had a shamelessly American lunch of California rolls and veggie friend rice (because what's more American than eating Japanese food in Florence, Italy? ...judge us), then bobbed and wove through the mayhem that is the San Lorenzo marketplace where I found myself accidentally fostering my bad habit of speaking Spanish to Italians, because apparently in my mind, anything non-English=SPANISH!

[As seen in Uffizi. Who doesn't love Medieval pattern work?]

Fast-forward through a 2 hour bus ride (during which the driver BLARED Cyndi Lauper and Alicia Keys the entire way over the loud speakers) to dinnertime back in Cortona. I had the best ravioli I have ever eaten.

This is a big deal, and a bold claim.

I won't say "if you know anything about me you know I love ravioli" because that's not entirely true, but most people who know me really well know that I'm pretty into ravioli.

The ponytailed waiter came to our table of four and wrote down the first three orders (all gnocchi with ragu), and then when he looked at me I whimpered in unpreparedness and asked him what his favorite was. He pointed to the Spighe di Formaggio al Tartufo - Spikes ravioli with Robiola cheese from Alta Langa, honey, and fresh truffle.
I went with his confident suggestion and several minutes later when he brought me the steaming plate of happiness-stuffed love, I took my first bite and nearly shed a tear.

I even waited several minutes to tell my table-mates just how immaculate my food was in fear that they might take it from me (This behavior is a byproduct of growing up with older siblings who would steal food off my plate against my will. To this day, if you move your fork within a certain radius of my plate without at least a warning, I will involuntarily swat or fork-stab your hand in the name of self-defense). But after an internal monologue reminding myself that "it's okay to tell them. They are kind friends. It's good to share," I offered them each a bite. They ate, and agreed. Best ravioli ever.

Firenze. Cyndi Lauper. Euphoria... It was a good Saturday.