The one day of the week I eat good. REALLY good.

Sun 1 Feb 2009

The Superbowl should be starting in one hour, and this may be the first year in quite nearly a decade that I haven't watched at least part of it. But neither of the teams are any too relevant to me, so luckily I'm content not braving the cold or staying up til 4 a.m. watching some burly men battle it out. And, I plan on bringing my computer to BC tomorrow to learn the final score, highlights, and post whatever becomes of this entry.

Before I get to the weekend in Roma, a quick mention of my first cuisine class is in order. I think I've heard from about four people here that it sucks to be a vegetarian in Italia. All the rest either haven't said anything, told me how easy it is, or told me they've accidently become ones themselves. Have your opinions, whatever they may be, but so far being a vegetarian in Italia is just about 400 times more delicious than being a vegetarian at home, and at least equally as easy.

All being a veggie in cuisine class meant is instead of putting the pork-filled tomato sauce on my pasta, I had some damn good tomato sauce sans pig. And instead of the prosciutto everyone else ate before the salad, I got extra salad with the homemade dressing. I'm not complaining.

Despite forewarned large amounts of writing in this class, I'm still psyched for it (sense a trend? The same occurred for reading in the Renn class). Just like I'd rather do some extra reading to be in the class with the eccentric, fascinating Renn professor, I'm willing to do some writing to stay in a class that allows me to eat a five-course meal that WE get to prepare once every few weeks with an adorable British professor and her British husband.

A basic breakdown of dinner: Bruschetta (purchased bread that we toasted) with homemade olive oil the professor harvested in the fall and sea salt; a soup traditional for x-mas that I plan to make again consisting of chestnuts, chickpeas, canned tomatoes, celery, and an assortment of spices and other veggies; fresh pasta from the pastacceria down the street (with tomato sauce for me, and with pork and tomato sauce for the others); prosciutto for the others; salad with homemade dressing of lemon, salt, olive oil and surprisingly mild anchovies; four wines throughout the meal (two white, two red); three cheeses (one similar to brie, one Rome's version of parmesan, pre-crumbeled and the last the same but slightly younger); and homemade biscotti with chestnuts. Oh yes. We made that. We ate that.