Last Sunday was a bright sunny day and so my friend Jane and I went for a drive. It was time for Morgan to have an out-of-town adventure and so he came along as well. It was only his second outing in a car (the first being the rainy night I first brought him home) and I have to say that he did very well. He mostly sat in my lap and only tried to climb into the driver’s seat once.
We ended up in Anguillara on the banks of Lake Bracciano about 30 km northwest of Rome. The town has a pretty medieval center and a bit of scruffy beach. Anguilla means eel and I think the town was called Anguillara because the lake is or was full of eels. According to Dante, Pope Martin IV died from eating too many eels stewed in Vernaccia wine. So there you go. It’s a lovely place and many foreigners come here to do the romantic Italian wedding package thing. Fortunately none were in evidence last Sunday.
After giving Morgan the opportunity to check out the lake (which he found of great interest, especially the many birds that were having a swim), we settled in for a spot of lunch al fresco.
Lunch was okay, not great. Some nicely garlicked marinated eggplant but the sausage tasted like feet (yes, sometimes even the Italians get it wrong). The bruschetta was excellent however. (By the way, Americans, it’s not pronounced brooshetty. It’s pronounced broosgetta. And while I have your attention, panino is a singular noun. Panini is plural. So when you order a (singular) panini (plural), all of Italy is laughing at you. Argh. Makes me nuts. How has every sandwich shop and sandwich-selling Italian restaurant in America gotten this so wrong?).