Scaloppine & a night to savor.

Scaloppine. It’s one of my favorite  Italian meals. Thin slices of pork or beef. Richly marinated in a sauce or gravy. Often topped with mushrooms. Maybe the closest Italian fare comes to the German schnitzel. Often served with pan fried or baked potato. I had scaloppine last week. At the Nadi restorante in Bari, in the south of Italy. Made my evening. Satisfied my appetite. Along with a glass of wine. Can’t remember if I had an appetizer and a dessert. Didn’t matter. I was focused on the scaloppine. A nice relief from pasta dishes. Though I have no complaints about pasta. Instead, I like the contrast. The break. The Italian chef even came to the table. To tell me the scaloppine would be prepared without the usual kind of mushrooms. Another kind. A substitute. But I wouldn’t have known one mushroom from another. I like mushrooms, period. At the finish, I suggested to my Italian true love that I lick the plate. Joking, of course. An Italian gentleman wouldn’t do that. And neither would an American gentleman. The service was splendid. With one odd exception. I had to ask for the bill several times. Took an hour to get the check. But I was in no hurry. I liked the cozy cave-like interior of the place. Besides, I had the company of my personable and beautiful Italian true love. –Jim Broede