parma is for eaters

Parma is an easy hour and ten minutes away from Milan. The train ride was picturesque, zipping past early-morning hunters combing through fields with their dogs at their sides, and the colors of fall blurring into a general warmth and glow that filled the windows. Parma is also a very familiar name. If you've heard of Parmesan cheese or Parma ham you've heard of Parma; both items were born here.



The city of Parma feels small but not too small. There's a river, appropriately named the Parma River, running through the western side of the city and a beautiful Duomo. There is also a magnificent octagonal Baptistry; four stories high and finished in the 13th century, it's pink marble and elaborate details give it more personality than most. In the Palazzo Pilota - which was built in the 1500's and restored after heavy damage during in World War II - there was an exhibit on medieval life in Parma, complete with digital imaginations of both church services and a Medieval market. Among many objects equally-aged and impressive there were books scribed in 1100 AD and priests' vestaments almost 800 years old.

There's a lot to see in Parma but we'd be lying if we didn't quickly admit to being there for the food. Most of our weekends are spent in search of new and wonderful Italian foods. It's a true wonder that both of us haven't been rolled away to the fat farm. And this weekend did nothing to weaken our candidacies.

We had lunch at the Gallo d'Oro (Golden Rooster) and didn't pull any punches. There was the local wine - a fizzy red by the name of Lambrusco - that was perfect for a drizzly afternoon. Stefano took the opportunity to indulge in a local specialty that's not easily found: culatello. It's a type of ham that is so specifically made and in such an odd way that the authorities have made it difficult for it to come to market. This ham was accompanied by fried puffs of dough that were light, airy, and decadent. To start, I had the finest parmigiano risotto I've had to date. Go figure. It was creamy and savory, with traces of onion and a complex spectrum of flavors from the cheese.



Mixed homemade ravioli followed for Stefano - there were the squash variety, sweet but still savory, also those with a pesto filling with more of a punch, and then a spinach variety that let the others shine. Eggplant parmigiano followed for me - the oven's flames had rendered the cheese crusty and smokey, with the eggplant nearly melting in your mouth. For dessert, there was a cheese course highlighting a pecorino with a gentle bite that lingered on the tongue. Zero complaints here.

But I do have a comment. The lady sitting next to us, who had nodded a "buon giorno" our way as she sat down, was eating something that I can safely say I would never eat. Ever. It was horse carpaccio. Americans by and large are not conditioned to the idea that horse is for eating. For riding, for plowing... Yes. But not for chewing. This lady had a plate full of red, ground, raw horse meat. And she ate about 3/4 of it before stopping. We now know who shops at the horse butcher we'd passed earlier in the day.

But back to the flights of fancy that swirl through dreams and coffee breaks - handmade chocolates, artistic pastries, and miniature cakes.



I am happy to report that despite an appalling lack of info in the guidebooks, Parma is full - and I mean 100% pieno - of pasticcerie and chocolate shops. It's hard to walk a block without tripping past at least one mouth-watering display window filled to the gills with terribly delicious sweets. And apparently these shops take their art seriously; Parma gets credit as the only city in Northern Italy that has thus far scolded me for immortalizing a window display with my trusty camera. Not easily dissuaded, Stefano proceeded to indulge in candied peel covered with dark chocolate.



There was even what we are now calling the greatest candy shop in the world. It was a small space - maybe the size of a teenager's bedroom - and it was crammed, floor to ceiling, with every kind of sweet imaginable. Was there an Italian candy or chocolate you'd wanted to try? Rest assured, it's here. Whether you can reach it is another story but there was a man there who between helping people reach the sweets, was helping us try the different candies.



The place was filled with customers and there was a pleasant commotion, kind of like Santa's workshop. What's not to like when you've got Italian chocolates in your mouth, a basket of Italian candy in hand, and a room of delights left to plunder? I'm not embarrassed to say that we spent enough in that small room to buy our round-trip train tickets and then some. Life's about the little things. Including lots of little candies.



There was a gentle drizzle for part of our day in Parma. I like the way a little rain makes the streets shine, and the statues a little more mysterious. I also like the way Italians work to avoid contact with the weather. I can't remember ever seeing a person in the United States riding their bike while also holding up an umbrella. I always thought you had to choose one or the other. If you want to ride your bike in the rain, you get wet. If you want to use an umbrella, you don't get on your bike. But not in Italy. In Italy you get to do both.

Kind of like the way you get to eat more than one dessert. Italy's nice that way.