From Paris to London (III): undersea travels, cheese and sweet wine

Many people know there is a submarine tunnel that bridges Paris and London, few people I know have actually merged into the darkness of the earth to come out again in the light of the surface. Here is the website for the booking: Eurostar

Already Napoleon Bonaparte (1769-1821) planned to excavate a dugout to reach an elusive bartender, for his unsuitable thirst. Because of the available technologies, the plan was abandoned and the enterprise to the cold ice-cream of Russia brought to a sad end a glorious moment for continental Europe. Despite his arrogance and his final defeats, in Italy Napoleon is praised as an hero and he is the last Emperor we addressed with his baptism name.

Napoleon on the imperial throne by Ingres

The day after the flamboyant wedding, still dizzy by the cling of toasts and by the night's raids in the metro, my French days regrettably expired, so that I had to leave behind myself the majestic splendor of Paris, for the more put-together charm of London. It is incredible how two so close towns developed such different souls. Paris, the home of French Revolution, seems a city made by giants. London, the place that hosts one of the more ancient monarchies of the world, is a practical city, thought for commerce and adapted to tourism. Perhaps for this metaphysical reason the tunnel under the Channel is so peculiar: it has to bridge two mind-dimensions.

LeRoy Neiman: even the Beatles may look like workaholic yuppies.

Moreover, that's possibly why London is a city which encourages evasion, as in Peter Pan with flying skills, in Sherlock Holmes with opium, in Dickens with countryside trips. On the other side, Paris, though drenched in danger, works as a magnet for people coming from all over the fair nation: Paris sucks your energies and your wealth out, and spits what remains of you like Pinocchio's whale, such as in L'education sentimentale by Flaubert or Les illusions perdues by Balzac.

When fairy powder makes your flee-dreams come true.

Luckily the shark whale is not hominivorous (a men eater),
he prefers krill and plankton.

What I found fascinating was the duty free: the train that runs under the sea is treated as an airplane. Your suitcases are scanned and your physical body as well. I was lucky to spend only 50€, because of the low season: we were in early december. This unexpected duty-free consented me to find luxury food-goods: a truly finest selection for gourmets. A couple of affluent and eccentric British citizens in a totally unconcerned manner spent a sensible fortune. I felt luckier having an allocated budged. I came out with two gems: a cœur Neufchâtel (pronounced as if the f was silent), an fromage artisanl from Haute-Normandie. It has the typical shape of a heart and it is a product provided with the Appellation d'origine contrôllée, which means it has a specific certification of reliability, as for Parmigiano in comparison with the unfair Parmesan. The second choice was a fine bottle of a sweet dessert wine, whose indication allowed the drinker to spouse it with cheeses as well: it was a Sauternes of the winemaker Calvet, as sort of guarantee in itself.

My host could not restrain himself: he is a cheese lover
and more importantly an unstoppable cheese eater:
the soft heart of the heart, pardon the word pun, as beyond
my descriptive ability.

Porcini mushrooms are very cheeky and they asked
to be immortalized next the Sauternes. An excellent risotto
completed our dinner, along with a mixed salad.

My voyage under the sea level was intense and quick. The tunnel is darker than oblivion, but the train in extremely comfortable. I was actually wishing to find a porthole in the tunnel structure to observe the abyss, but I guess it would have been seriously too dangerous. Another astonishing surprise was the high quality of the train cafe. I had some pain perdu with cheese inside...unbelievable:

While eating it all the sorrow of life were washed away like timid waves
onto the face of a sea-rock. The recipe is very easy, the result so intense!

Finally, we came out again to see the stars, E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle (Dante, Inferno, XXXIV, 139).

In London, I rejoiced two incredible friends of mine. Harriet who is from London: we met during my Erasmus in Edinburgh and then she came to Bologna as an Erasmus as well. It was shocking when, after almost two years, our friendship had to find a new balance, based on distance. Fabriz, her boyfriend, comes from the hatred Modena (jokes) and despite he is an engineer, he also has an exceptionally versatile and humanist side: he is very attentive to nuances of life and languages, he is phenomenally sarcastic, and he wishes to pinch the typical British calm with it. While waiting for Harriet at St Pancras international station, I found a pink piano, that someone was playing particularly well, and above all a stationary shop that I recommend to all paper lovers: Paperchase

The following day, the only full day in London, it was Sunday, so we strolled around, particularly going to Hampstead park, a huge estate full of wild life (huge squirrels), swans, woods and promenades paths: it would be difficult (and somehow against privacy) to evoke back all the topics we went through, nonetheless I recall I learned a new word "daunting".

Since that departure I am planning to go back to London and visit my friends unsuccessfully, but perhaps this July I shall succeed. In the meanwhile I keep looking the pictures I took, sighing

A Mondrian-esque tree

The skyline fo the City

Eating time: voracious and plump. Shouldn't you be hibernating?

VIP squirrels: time to run away from photos

Why not? More cheese! And cherry tomatoes
on La maison du monde saucer, bought in Bologna,
but you can find it here

AND MY WEDDING CAPTAL TRIP CAN BE DECLARED CONCLUDED. 

Back to Italy (6) – The Italian touch: aperitivo

Beyond expression lies the first hand impression of reality. The real is somehow hidden under this curtain of individual perception: hence, all the game is played between expression and retelling on one side, impression and emotion on the other. These two groups then collide inside the basket of memory. Or it is better to say, this is the way I feel our understanding works. The consideration I am about to articulate is then about the magic hidden beneath the Italian touch.

The Italian touch web-magazine: http://www.theitaliantouch.com/it/Home

How may one define this peculiar style, which springs out from our way of presenting things? Is it part of our Italian culture or it is something that might be adopted? Are there some embarrassing side effects? Normally, this Italian style is linked to fashion and clothes, gardens design and cars, a certain taste for aesthetics and different rhythm of living (that we are partially losing). Monica Bellucci tries - with enormous success, I must confess – to ride the wave of Italian splendour: her sensuality looks directly back to fairytales and she is opulent and beautiful as few divas have been. Unfortunately, the exhibited splendor of women is often the symptom of the decline of the society in which they live.

Her beauty is not only voluptuous - as the malignant one may object - but I think she is taken the breath away  because of the contemporary presence of several forms of perfections ( in a climax body, posture, face and grace): all the attributes of ancient queens. This beauty is al responding to the Italian aesthetic canon and here is emphasized by a D&G black dress and she was appeared brighter because of the Cartier platinum and diamond necklace.

Sophie Marceau is possibly one of the most charming French actresses, it is impressive though how Monica Bellucci in her red Valentino appears so uniquely Italian: the dress reproduces and accentuates her siren shape, especially in Cannes near the seaside.

«Being sexy is in an Italian woman’s DNA» 
- One of Monica Bellucci's famous quote...but I am
always suspicious of this easy stigmatization -

I think proper style is something deeply rooted in our perspective of «how to appear in front of others (which will finally judge…)», a sort of non-written protocol partially based on fear. However, when this attitude is too contingent, it becomes a hideous stereotype and several Italians end up behaving as fashionista: not just for those accessorises they choose, but for the lifestyle and mindsets they resolve to adopt. An approach of this kind appears vulgar to my taste. Vulgar is etymologically what belongs to the people, that is to say something the mass does robotically, without neither realizing nor thinking about the consequences of homologation: when the people acts like a flock of sheep, it loses spontaneity and originality. This situation reminds me of René Magritte's surrealism: all modern men are like rain, the society we are living makes us similar and conformist, but every single drop, as soon as it falls, is lost forever.

René Magritte, Pluie d'hommes (It's raining men), 1953,
Menil Collection, Huston, TX.

Elegance is instead the skill of choosing for the best according to one’s taste, keeping intact that quality of distinction that makes each person unique, as, for instance, Gianni l’Avvocato (The lawyer) Agnelli - former head of the FIAT group (including Ferrari, Maserati, Alfa and Lancia) - has been for decades in Italy. It is possible to reproduce his way of dressing, yet it is more essential essential to understand his very attitude:

Gianni Agenlli, nicknamed l'Avvocato (1921-2003) in his late fifties: he was famous - among the other gossips - for his watch, a Patek Philippe, he usually wore over his cuff, a sign of distinction from the mainstream, but also because it seems he was allergic to metals, so involuntary he launched a fashion.

The FIAT group Alfa, Lancia, Ferrari, Maserati, 500 Abarth, Fiat, and now Chrysler and Dodge.

Gianni Agnelli's Patek Philippe World Time ref. 1415 HU Timepiece:

http://www.fratellowatches.com/gianni-agnelli-and-his-patek-philippe-world-time-ref1415hu-weve-found-one-for-sale/ 

Such a principle of measure in style applies to food as well: indispensable, unconventional, self-sufficient is the best adjective-trinty to delimitate the practice I am going to treat. This time I wish to take into account a relatively tiny aspect of the Italian touch etiquette, the so-called APERITIVO, a dynamic concept, easier to enjoy, more difficult to explain. It is more that beer and crisps at six-ish in the afternoon. It is a slow introduction to dinner and sometimes a true replacement. It combines the passion for wine tasting or light cocktails. It matches elaborated food that at the same time does not need a long-term preparation. It’s a custom that started from Veneto - the region of Venice, Verona and Padua - but now evolved, nourished by all the tributary specialities of each Italian town. Quite often the APERITIVO is linked to a cocktail called SPRITZ:

Recipe (basic version):  1/3 prosecco; 1/3 aperol; 1/3 ice or chilly sparking water; a slice of orange

Spritz with finger food tarts.

Here in Edinburgh, you can find a remarkable Prosecco (around 6.99£) quite paradoxically at Lidl (in Nicholson Street 60, EH8 9DT). My opinion is that Lidl has to be chosen uniquely for a smart line of products called Deluxe, which is praiseworthy, and precisely for the Prosecco of Conegliano Valdobbiadene, with the natural cork:

YET, if you wish to feel something made by professional catering people, Divino enoteca (or wine bar) is the finest in town (5 Merchant street, Edinburgh): they actually cultivate an ambitious and simple project, that of becoming the best wine-house in the UK. 

Divine for the name and for the experience

Divino is not just a physical place but a conceptual one, pretty much metaphysical. It is like stepping inside a space-machine that flings you to another dimension, in this case Italy: so, nothing as worrying as Stargate, one of the films that shaped my childhood:

A classic of the '90s (1994) that - as an 11 years old kid -
I appreciated a lot: the Divino effect is similar,
with less civilization clash, admittedly.

The term appetizing doesn’t cover the entire semantic range of stuzzicante: stuzzicare, in Italian, it also stays for to tease and poke but in a good acceptation. It is then also appealing and stimulating. It is a progressive form of the verb and the food that is appetizing for somebody is a sort of allure that keeps enriching its appeal. In the rules-of-attraction-of-food, I am then speaking of a well-crafted finger food that asks continuously for second helpings:

An assortment of delis (Parma ham, Salame Napoli), cheese (Pecorino & Gorgonzola) and antipasti (grilled courgettes and aubergines). I have to thank Roberta Carloni for these two amazing shots.

White wine (probably Ribolla) with some dark ravioli and risotto

It is a myth that food has to be incredibly elaborated: what is actually admirable is the thought below the dish, in other words how the preparation fits the moment. This way of approaching food has to be pondered carefully: to make an example, I was completely mesmerized by a picture of a friend of mine. He is called Gino, he has somehow espoused a sort of cynical approach to life and several of his jokes are caustic (often misunderstood), BUT under this shocking surface there is a gourmet, a kind friend and a true artist. Gino is benefits of a natural refined intelligence, and he's also THE drummer of a cover band called Falp, whose music is particularly entertaining and very well played. The name derives from the initial letters of the band components' names. This band appeared curious to my eyes because, like in The Paul Street boys, everyone is an unquestionable leader and there are no simple soldiers.

Gino having same "delicious" hand-kneaded bread with Sicilian extra-virgin oil:
as simple as you can imagine.
I was impressed by incredible wine effect captured by
his lovely girlfriend Loredana, whose kindness
allowed me to post this pic. I attempt a further recognition,
the whine is an Inzolia (a famous Sicilian wine company),
but it is only a blusterer's guess.

Yet, going back to the picture, which is a casual shot, which says more of who took it, rather than on the subject himself. I was captured by the perfect combination of simplicity and style, a sort of display of excellent taste, moderation and capability of enjoying the cosy moments of life: a young man, possibly a latin-lover, eating some bread with a tear of extra-virgin olive oil, shares the scene with two flutes of golden white wine. Loredana, the photographer, gave a romantic and intriguing angle to the scene! One is pushed to ask: who's the other mysterious drinker? Let's only reveal that the beauty she is able to capture is dramatically close to that impressed on the features of her visage. All the rest is pure magic and poetry: the white day-light in the street, the beaming effect of the beverage a sort of liquid Sun, the open shirt that matches the dish rim and the distant windows, and that peculiar spirit that merely a relaxed Aperitivo is able to convey...an Aperitivo enriched by the charm of affection.

The Falp band playing Beatle's A Ticket to ride, worth listening