Chapter 22: Finally

Today we went into Sansepolcro, saw a bit of the market, saw a chocolate shop where the owner made me a custom sample which was basically a decadent oozing mass of molten chocolate and hazelnuts, wandered the streets a little, and then sat down at a restaurant for lunch, by far the most important part of the day as all Italians know. I had complained to Sada Sat Singh that I had not yet had a fabulous Italian meal, so he took me to a little restaurant they know in Sansepolcro.

Before I continue any further I would just like to point out that alas, I am not Brian Jacques, and though I will do my best to describe this food as worthy of a Redwall feast, I know that I will fail horribly. And having put out that little disclaimer, I now set forth with gusto and determination towards certain doom.

For my antipasti I ordered honey-soaked pear with gorgonzola garnish, neatly lined up on a tripod of skewers like a sort of shishkabob, however the heck you spell that, I’m not even going to try to correct myself.

I’m not a professional food taster. I can’t tell you which sensation hit my tongue first or what kind of texture it had or what flavor should have been added or removed. The sensation that hit my tongue first was the taste of honeyed pear with gorgonzola, the texture was, well, pears and gorgonzola, and the only thing that should have been removed was the pears and gorgonzola from the skewers and into my mouth. How’s that for an analysis? To keep it simple, it was really good, ok?

My main dish was orrechiette (I have no idea where the double letters belong) with zucchini, pine nuts, and pecorino Romano, a particular kind of sheep cheese which will totally rock your world. It was a fabulous dish but I don’t have time to describe it because really what I wanted to talk about was dessert.

We each ordered a dessert so we could try some of each. 1 tiramisu and 1 chocolate soufflé. The tiramisu was excellent tiramisu. End of story. The chocolate soufflé however. I took one bite and almost died it was so good.

It’s brought out on a large white platter, the soufflé in the center looking innocently like a sort of chocolate cupcake thingy, drizzled artistically with creamy dark ganache. I dig my spoon into it to get a bite and whole thing sort of sags with warm chocolaty goodness. Then you put the bite in your mouth and it’s like your entire body simultaneously goes “CHOCOLATE!!” with a warm, moist explosion of chocolate flavor. No, I really mean explosion. I’m not just using that word because other people do (like craggy).

Ok get this. [The following story is based upon actual events] You’re sitting at some Japanese restaurant in Santa Fe, a city where life is not carbon-based but green chile-based. The Japanese restaurant tactfully has a green chile sushi option which you order immediately like any good New Mexican. The green chile sushi arrives with a heaping side of wasabi. You, like any good New Mexican, pick up a green chile sushi, pile on as much wasabi as you can reasonably fit on the circular top of a sushi roll, and then pop the whole thing in your mouth at once.

For anyone who’s reading this and has tried wasabi, I hope you just clutched your nose in pain as you read that. Because you know what it inevitably must feel like, right? All that spice slamming upwards through your nose and into your brain like a freight train? I mean it’s no longer a flavor, it’s physical force.

Ok, well that’s what I mean when I use the word explosion. This warm chocolaty flavor is so intense it hits you like a spoonful of wasabi. Except… chocolate. It’s that good. I mean, need a say more?

After that I spent the rest of the day recovering from lunch.