For Foodies Only. . .

So. . .picking up on the post of our trip to Sorrento, we ate lunch at a nice place near the water. Nello choose not to join us, but his assistant (not sure of her name, and Carol is asleep right now) did accept our invitation. She was born in Belgium of Sicilian parents, but is an Italian citizen. She lives in Sorrento now, because this is where her husband is from.

She speaks French, Dutch, English, Spanish, and Italian. We have a lot in common, because, of that list, I speak English. She understands English better than she speaks it, although I know too many Americans who speak English better than they understand it.

For starters, we both had the prosciutto and mozzarella. The downside is -- I will never want to eat American mozzarella again. I had Galahanni fish, which was a nicely prepared dish with tomatoes and finely sliced potatoes. Carol had xxxx, and we each had a glass of the local white wine, which is called Fiano D'avellino. I'm not a huge white wine fan, but it was quite nice. My experience tends to be that when you are in the local area, have the local wine. Outside of the local area, it's also possible that the local wine doesn't taste as good.

After that, we went to an in-laid furniture shop in Sorrento. The work is gorgeous, but it's not our thing. Given the prices, we weren't about to impluse buy something that doesn't really fit into our style. Impressive craftsmanship, but. . .

Given the rain and the lateness of the hour, I told Stefano to bag the trip to Positano. Someday we will get to Positano and the Amalfi Coast, but with the rain and Stefano's overly cautious driving, I wanted to get back to Rome before Easter.

On the return trip, for my sanity, I took a different approach. I sat so I could not see the speedometer, read, responded to emails on the bberry, read some more, played Brickbreaker on the blackberry, and generally tried not to look longingly at the cars flying past like we were standing still. We were the fenceposts on the highway of life.

I also handled the return trip better because I was more mellow from the enjoyment of Pompeii (in the big picture of life, going to Pompeii is far more important than losing two hours to Stefano's contrarian ways).

We got back at 7:30 (90 minutes later than planned), so we didn't have a lot of time before our 8pm dinner reservations.

Fortunately, dinner was just down the street (literally) at Agata e Romeo. The restaurant was listed as tops on one top ten list, second on another, and in a list of best dining bets, scored as "Best Nuova Cucina" -- We shared a nice Brunello from 2000 (although, surprisingly it didn't strike us as much as the Vino Nobilo the night before -- perhaps because we know we'll enjoy a Brunello.)

For a welcome plate from the chef (Agata -- her husband Romeo runs the dining areas), they brought us anchovies with olive oil and some nice spices. Even the girls liked it -- until they found out it was anchovies (well, they blanched a bit, but Julia and Maddy did like it). For the first course, I had the Bomboletti (sp?) -- a short pasta, with green beans and seafood (squid, shrimp, and clams) mixed in. Excellent preparation. Carol had the ravioli with pumpkin for her first course. . .again, quite tasty. For the main meal, I had braised veal cheeks, while Carol had. . . Even the breads were excellent, especially a round small piece that had mozzarela and tomato and tasted like a scrumptious mini-mini pizza.

We passed on dessert (which looked excellent) and took the girls for gelatto. It's cheaper, they are happy, and no one can complain!