I just got back from a quick trip to Venezia aka Venice. Sunday night, after the dinner service, I went along with the kitchen crew to the pub. Sunday night is really the only time we 
socialize together outside of the kitchen.
Last Sunday night was different. There are two French stagists in our kitchen now, not sure about the spelling but the names sound like Fannie and Amandine. To make it short, they wanted to go to Venice, and everyone in the bar, everyone (not just the us), thought it was a good idea for me to be their guide. At first thought, NO, and now that I am back, I still wish I didn’t go. For everyone in the kitchen – they all want me to get laid...
...so that’s what they were thinking about – for me – its not that big of a problem right now – I don’t really care – I am focusing on my salumi, getting it down before my transition back to Los Angeles (Breaking Newz…May 4th is the tentative date…watch out LA, anyone hiring??).
If you have read any of my comments elsewhere, you will notice that I don’t really like Venice too much. It is one, huge, tourist trap – the largest I have seen – the whole damn city is in on it.
The two ladies I went with, both 18, met up with their two French guy friends in Bologna, and now we were five. Damn, I wish everyone at the bar knew I wasn’t going to be the only guy, then I could stay home, not spend sooooo much damn money, and tie the fioccheti like I should have on Monday, and organize the cantina like I should have today.
Tomorrow during family meal, everyone is gonna go at me – how was it Ore? Did you get some? Fuk off!
In Venice –
The temperature was great, if anything was excellent about this trip, it was the weather, nice and warm with a cool evening and night. It was perfect jacket and long pants weather. The hotel I found for the five of us was not bad either. We stayed at the very nice, I recommend, Locanda ai Bareteri. The two rooms came out to 36 euro a person - not bad.
What I was very disappointed in was how bad these French cooks ate. Our first night their, I had a cool plan for getting to the (mind the spelling mistakes) ‘banccali’ – some sort of area near the main bridge, where you hop around from one enoteca/tapas bar to the other.
Nope, the French insisted on the tourist menu at one of those cheeseball restaurants all lit up on the waters side. For a set 15 euro, I had ravioli with a ladle of tomato sauce in the middle, 9 deep fried rings of (I hope) frozen calamari, a side salad and one scoop of ice cream.
It was sooooooo bad. I thought about eating this garbage quickly, getting these French wasted, dropping them off at the hotel, and going to eat something really good, to make up for the crap I just ingested.
That didn’t work out either. The eighteen euro bottle of wine was hideous, I honestly had one sip and left the rest in my glass, as they chugged it away. Why, Why do people who work with and know food act this way – especially cooks from France, who, from what they say, work at nice restaurants around the Lyon area. Oh well…the French (I hope I am wrong about this over-generalization).
So – next off was the Casino. When we got there, finally, we had to leave because the two boy friends had street shoes on. We left; I thought they were tired, so I headed in the direction of the hotel. Nope, they wanted to drink…ok. Time to go to the pubs. We get there, I point out a nice one, we end up at the shity one, and it’s weird, how it all worked out. They speak zero Italian or English; my French is as bad as their choice of restaurants, so yes, it was tough!
After the four beers it took for me to fell better about my self, and the situation I let others put me in, it was time to get back. It was a long walk back to the hotel – so we waited some time at a ferry stop, only to realize (by others) that this stop was not service at the late hours – off walking to the next stop – then to bed, alone (I am happy about that!)!!!
Woke up with out a hang over…nice! Crawled out of bed and into the shower – waited for everyone else to get ready. Walked to the bar where an over charged cappuccino was 2 euro, a fresh squeezed orange juice (blood and normal) was 4 euro. The, off to site-see...yey! 
Lunch was another confusing ordeal. We passed by what I thought was the perfect place. A nice table, with real restaurant stemware and flatware…but nope, too expensive from a quick glance at menu prices, they thought. I thought Uh Oh – I can’t handle another 15 euro repeat of last night. The apps were 10-12, same for the pastas. The mains were 16-22. Not expensive...frenchies (angrily, yet jokingly, wearing an upset face).
We ended up in anoth er touristy trap, but I have to say, the food wasn’t a death wish like the previous night. Get this though; my check was the cheapest at 26 euro. The others were all in the 30 euro range.
That’s what happens when you are DUMB and CHEAP – you eat shit and feel bad about it too…"this is shit" – you pay for what you get…Enoteca Pinchiorri as the ONLY exception (for their food prices, not wine!).
After lunch, more site-seeing, some new restaurant concept ideas for Los Angeles, and then the three hour train ride home. Woopy!
