[Note: Since these entries are not even remotely being posted around when they occurred, I thought I should let you know that this entry took place on September 16th. But it still feels like yesterday! Kind of.]
I cracked my eyes open to see slivers of morning light peeking through Sara's shutters. Ah. Peacefulness.
This was was quite a different view from what Sara saw as she walked into the living room.
- We're not dead, taken by Sara
What would the neighbors think? "Oh, that Sara, housing refugees as usual."
I especially like how Diana and I were facing in the same direction while Morten and Kåre were facing in the same, but opposite from us, direction. Eerily symmetrical. Eerie.
After removing ourselves from the comforts of lying in the horizontal position and changing into clothing suitable for wearing in the outside world, we gathered in the kitchen for something breakfast-like. "Something breakfast-like" meaning bread, jam, cereal, coffee, juice, and leftovers from Sara's birthday party the night before.
An audio recorder would've been very helpful at this point so that I could replay our Robynzilla-centric conversation back to you. Alas, I didn't...um, have one. Sara gave me the nickname Robynzilla as an appropriate description of my ability to eat things, destroy cities and take down skyscrapers using the power of my jaws. A good deal of the conversation focused on that and possibly marketing my Poofy pancake t-shirts to guys as a way to pick up women. The commercial would involve a Poofy pancake t-shirt-wearing Morten being chased by girls who love pancakes. Hilarity would ensue. (Morten actually did get picked up by a few women while wearing the shirt. For better or worse, I haven't heard of this shirt helping any women to pick up men.)
All eyes were on the Charlotte Russe, about a quarter of which remained after the party. It screamed "part of this complete breakfast." I swear. However, not everyone else heard the screaming. Could it all have just been in my head? That wouldn't be surprising.
Since there was still a big, lonely chunk of cake left without any takers lunging towards its custardy center, Kåre and I volunteered to put it out of its misery through the use of forks, mastication and digestive acids. We weren't just doing it for personal gain; we also wanted to save Sara from having to throw out more food. Totally unselfish, I tell you.
We also snacked on some super chocolatey and buttery tasting cookies that Ms. Adventures in Italy-Sara had received from David Lebovitz when she visited Paris. I'm no baking expert, but I would say they were made with cocoa powder, butter, and cocoa powder. I'm probably missing an important ingredient somewhere in there...perhaps cacao nibs. Yes. They struck a perfect balance between chocolate and crumbly buttery-ness, if such a balance needed to be struck.
Diana, Morten, Kåre and I left Sara as she slaved away on her computer (aw) to meet the lovely Yasmina, my Flickr friend who's originally from the Netherlands but lives in Milan for her job in interactive design, with the intention of eating lots of gelato. Upon Ms. Adventure's gelateria recommendation, I requested we visit Chocolat, a land of sweets and joy and joyness festooned with drawings of a cute, slightly deranged and obese boulder-shaped cow, and whose freezer case overflowed with piles of gelato the size of babies. Many babies. Fat, smooth, sugary ones that glistened with deliciousness. You know those kinds of babies, right?
They have plenty of non-chocolate gelato flavors, but if you really like chocolate then you're in luck—they have at least six variations to choose from at any one time.
Sometimes it can be hard to choose flavors. This wasn't one of those times. Cinnamon, Gianduia chocolate and pistachio—I demand that you get in my belly. Since cinnamon isn't a very common flavor, I get it whenever I come across it. Since pistachio is a common flavor, I use it as a benchmark between all gelaterias. As for gianduia, I just love the combination of hazelnut and chocolate.
It's safe to say that I enjoyed the gelato. A lot. I don't recall much about the gelato by this point besides that it was super creamy and smooth (something that may be hard to imagine if you've only eaten ice cream in your life), not too sweet, and that the flavors, although not the kind that could stun dead taste buds back to the world of the living (few things are, really), were very very very...awesome. Hell, maybe they could resuscitate some dead taste buds. If this gelateria were in NYC it'd be the one of the most impressive, no doubt. Although I didn't get to do extensive gelato research in Milan I suspect this is one of the best gelaterias there too.
Oh, here's a scary photo that tends to amuse people:
I figured posting a smaller size would make it less traumatizing to the children. "Think of the children," as I always say. And by "always" I mean "never."
Morten also tried a slice of their dark chocolate cake flavored with chilies. I wouldn't have called it a cake so much as a thin slab of ganache. A rich, smooth, dense slab of chocolate wonder enhanced by heavy cream and a touch of hotness that didn't really register until after the cake had touched the back of your throat and traveled into thy belly. One forkful was enough for me; I don't think I would've felt very good eating an entire piece.
I mean, I could've eaten an entire piece if I had to. The stomach will bend when necessary.
I unintentionally took a cool shot of Yasmina's and Morten's hands overlapping in the frame of my viewfinder, with Morten reaching to stir his espresso and Yasmina possibly pointing at something. My description ruins it a bit, perhaps.
After parting with Yasmina we went to a local PAM (where I found McDonald's branded mayonnaise, horror upon horror) to buy ingredients for dinner back in Bologna and returned to the House of Sara.
Cue "silly photo time":
With Diana's help we took a series of "Robyn Attacking Sara" photos in her kitchen. I look kind of crazy here. Yeah...that's accurate.
But this was the best one:
- Double attack! Taken by Sara
Morten jumped into the photo for a split second of absolutely insanity. His eyes are all buggy, for god's sake. WE ARE SOOO ATTRACTIVE!
And then it was time to go back home. :( No more Sara! No more craziness! No more...happiness? It was back to normal life for Sara and Patrice. The era of being amused by strange house guests was over. Sigh. Hanging out with Sara and company was some of the most fun I had ever had and I can't thank them enough for letting us sleep in their apartment for two nights, soiling their sheets with many germs and skin cells in the process. (Hey, we're only human.) The magical combination of good food and crazy personalities is like nothing else. Admittedly, I say this not ever having been drunk or high, but I trust my judgment.
I think the only one that could've been happy to see us leave was Grimalkin.