Looks like salami,
Tastes so heavenly!

Grappa, made from the dregs
of the vine, is a mighty fine
fuel to burn down a sleepy town.
But the best of the best, I guess,
served just past sunset at the oasis

is smoother than the smoothest silk–
or perhaps cloth of some courser ilk–
close enough, at any rate, to partake.
Shaky legs may slip a bit as we wend
our way downhill to their other place,
a friendly haunt (“The Happy Bacchus”).

Two by two into the ark of the flood
of (naturally) amazingly good food:

Healthy choices for the fairer sex;
Hearty fare for their loyal subjects.

Beside our usual fare–cappuccino per due,
uno cornetto per me, e uno veneziano per lei—
a kind chocolatier has placed more new treats:

These morsels are so good that after the market
we return to the scene of the crime for some more.

From our peaceful terrazzo just before cena:

The homemade pizza, I must have thought,
was worth all the calories but not the pixels.

Picture a store-bought crust, slices of provolone
and pear, with caramelized onions and store-grated
formaggio mozzarella–all roasted with care. Once
it’s out of the oven, top with gorgonzola e rucola,
olio d’oliva e aceto balsamico, and you’re there.
Only don’t forget the salt, Rebecca has to remind.

Il negozio where we buy wine
also stocks another gold mine.