We Did a Thing

Back in March, we had the Viaggio crew to dinner, and while it went well, our dining room was feeling a bit cramped.

After the dinner, Ann had an idea: move the dining room table to the living room/kitchen and convert the dining room to a wine room. It's certainly an unusual idea, but I like having the dining table in the same room with the kitchen and some comfortable space in what used to be the dining room. "Not the worst idea I have ever heard," I believe I said.

It was a bit more complicated that this, requiring relocating our morning coffee space upstairs to the TV room and creating a coffee station upstairs in the laundry room. I moved the wine cabinet from the former dining room to the TV space in the former living room in preparation for building more wine storage into the new wine room. I will finish that over the next few weeks. Then I reoriented the chandelier (once over the dining room table) to accomodate a seating area.

Before I could build and install the wine racks, we had a functional enough space that we invited Rob and Dyce over to christen it with Champagne, charcuterie, bread, and butter. This is my kind of dinner: one that I do not have to cook.

Lardo on Crostini

While I was out picking up charcuterie, I had them slice some lardo as a surprise for everyone. Hint: if you do not like lardo, you probably will not fit in well here. Dyce had texted Ann earlier in the day saying he was bringing a surprise. When he arrived, he pulled out a tiny packet of—you guessed it—more lardo! The more the merrier and great minds think alike.

Three Types of Beurre de Baratte (Churn)
Damn, the French Put a Lot of Salt in Their Butter!

Mortadella is a Must!

Italy Day 4, Castelfranco: Battling Italian Drivers

Friday, September 27

Castelfranco, Modena, Emilia-Romagna

Highlight: Mortadella, big chunks of mortadella!

Lowlight: Stress of driving in Italy

Today we left Pistoia and Toscana behind to travel north to Castelfranco in Emilia, crossing the Apennine Mountains in the process. Ann smartly chose Castelfranco because it sits on the rail line between Bologna and Modena, providing easy access to both those beautiful cities. Today, in all sincerity, was a day we would be happy forgetting.

Dinner from the Grocery Store

Let's start the tale by talking about the rental car. Neal did us a real solid the night we flew in by renting a car at the airport in Firenze at a fraction of the cost that we would have paid by booking via Hertz from the US. He got a larger car, a Jeep Renegade, a model not available in the US and this was the vehicle that he was driving when he picked us up at the airport and took us to their home above Pistoia.

Neal put the car in his name but could not add me as a driver to the rental contract without my driver's license. The plan was to stop by the airport and add me to the contract as we were leaving Tuscany for Emilia-Romagna. 

Our day started in the late morning after going to bed at 1am after our wonderful night out in Pistoia. At 11:30 we left for Firenze and the airport to deal with the car. Adding me to the contract proved to be a non-issue (of course, they did want an extra €10 per day to do so) and never once was I asked for my international driver's license, only my Oregon one.

Heretofore, I had not driven the Jeep at all. With all due sarcasm, it was fun trying to drive a 6-speed manual transmission in crazy Italian traffic. The clutch pedal has to come way off the floor to engage and that took a lot of getting used to. If nothing else, it makes starting the car on a hill that much more challenging. And Italy seems to be nothing but hills.

As well, the springs on the shifter are strong and push the shifter in neutral hard to the middle of the triple-H pattern between third and fourth. So I really had to be careful to hit the correct shift gates. Going from reverse to first was especially problematic, the springs pushing the lever towards the gate for third. My Toyota transmission was much easier to shift and I also had the clutch pedal adjusted to my liking, facilitating quick shifts.

We had to rely on a mapping program on the phone to get where we needed to go. And by following the directions from the rental car parking lot, we ended up in another paid parking lot adjacent to the airport. We had not yet come to understand the "just kidding!" aspect of the GPS directions. Often on roundabouts next to parking lots, the first exit will go into the parking lot while the second and subsequent exits go where you want to go. And when the GPS says to take the first exit, it isn't talking about the actual physical first exit. Later I would get in the habit of checking the directional signs just before the roundabout, when they bothered to post them.

Using Ed-logic, it would have been nice to see Italy via backroads rather than the autostrade. It sure would have been, but really, trying to get the GPS to select those roads was an exercise in frustration. We set out from the airport back to Pistoia in the hopes of taking the less-traveled SS64 in the direction of Modena rather than the A1 in the direction of Bologna.

It was nothing but a fustercluck trying to get to Castelfranco via backroads. I ended up driving in circles along the A11 with continual rerouting on the GPS. Between episodes of stalling the car trying to leave the toll booths along the A11 (we paid something like six tolls in our misadventure trying to leave Tuscany) we had great views of the landscape plant growers (shrub and tree) near Pistoia. This reminds me of tiny versions of the vast farms (Monrovia Nurseries comes to mind) in the Willamette Valley. Ultimately, with me being totally frustrated and Ann laughing hysterically at the insane situation, I gave up and took the autostrada. 

Besides the unfamiliar manual transmission, here are some of the things that made me a total stress monkey: signage I couldn’t read, crazy Italian drivers, long lines of slow trucks, no concept of where I was going, dodging speed and red light cameras, and struggling with the GPS. The GPS did provide a little entertainment: the pronunciation of Italian place names was comical in the extreme.

In my first day of driving in Italy, I got a crash course in what we came to call "spaghetti engineering." This is the practice whereby highway engineers (an oxymoron in Italy) apparently throw pieces of spaghetti at a map when planning a road. Where the spaghetti falls on the map, they trace it—coils, loops, squiggles, and all. This then becomes the course for the road. If you think I'm joking, you've clearly never driven in Italy.

I’m not going to even mention parking. I am pretty sure Italians have more parking rules than any other country and yet, they’ll park any place at any time in any direction, even on the damn sidewalk. While I am not mentioning parking, I will just say that parking spaces in Italy are made for tiny Fiats and even smaller vehicles, not the relatively huge 5-door Jeep that we were in.

Making progress north at long last, our trip on the A1 took us across the spine of Italy, the Apennines, which I hear are lovely. In dodging trucks and big German sedans flying at 160kph (100mph) with headlights flashing, I didn’t have much chance to look around in crossing the mountains. Also, much of the journey was kilometer after kilometer of tunnels through the mountains. Sadly, when I could glance at the mountains, it was foggy, gray, and overcast, not a pretty day. By the time we arrived in Emilia, it was uncomfortably warm and humid, definitely not the fall weather we were expecting. 

In checking with our host in Castlefranco, she had mentioned that a nearby shopping center had lots of free parking and that we should park there and walk the short distance to our apartment where she would meet us, if we would text her when we ready to check in. Free parking in Italy is something of a gilded unicorn and something not to be passed up, especially this huge American-style lot.

About 15:15 we arrived in Castelfranco, having apparently survived the speed cameras unscathed. On the way into town, Ann looked halfheartedly at the hosts' recommended places for dinner and concluded that nothing was interesting and that after the stress of the morning, all she wanted to do was get installed in the apartment and veg. I was wholeheartedly behind this plan and suggested that we grab groceries at the supermarket on our way to the apartment.

We went into the grocery store, a large supermarket by Italian standards, our first grocery shopping experience in Italy. No surprises here; the process is pretty similar to everywhere. I was drooling just looking at all the salume, especially the mortadella. Of course, at the deli counter, you can get them to slice it for you, but in the coolers, they offer the mortadella ends, cut into big chunks at unbelievably cheap prices. Welcome to Emilia-Romagna! We often buy salami ends here in the US, the leftover pieces that will not slice well on the automatic slicers.

After our day, wine was necessary and this store had a decent wine section organized by Bianchi, Rossi, e Spumanti. Within the rosso section, it was further organized by Nord, Centro, Sud, and the local section, Emilia-Romagna. This region of Italy is justifiably famous for its food but is not known for its wine. The very large local red section was over 90% red sparkling Lambrusco (curiously not in the spumanti section) with perhaps a dozen bottles of still red, mainly Cabernet. Although I wanted something local, I have never cared for Lambrusco no matter how well made and I didn’t come to Italy to drink Cab. It was pushing 16:00 and we hadn’t eaten yet at all today so I grabbed a known quantity from Tuscany, a Morellino di Scansano.

At checkout, we screwed up. I headed for an empty self-check line to avoid the longer lines at the staffed checkouts. But I wasn't thinking about our wine purchase. Self checkout requires you to scan your EU-issued driver’s license. Oops. We got the attention of the assistant and I showed her my Oregon drivers license. She took pity on us and overrode the ID scan.

We stopped at several stores during our three weeks in country, but this was our first time seeing that wine and food prices are very reasonable, especially by American standards and even more so compared to the super high food prices here in Bend. As examples, we got a fine bottle of Morellino di Scansano for €6,33 ($7) and a full-sized ciabatta loaf for €1,92 ($2.25). 

We left the car at shopping center and, thanks to Google Maps, we walked a long way out of our way on a hot and humid afternoon, dragging our luggage across cobblestones. Our host was surprised when we walked in from the wrong direction, having walked a half a mile rather than the 150 yards it should have taken. We were not in a good mood.

And our mood worsened as we entered our very cute modern second floor apartment to smell cigarette smoke from the chain smokers on first floor. We immediately made some lunch, then had a nap, and topped our day off with a bit of Netflix. We were exhausted and in no mood to explore Castelfranco, which seems to have very few touristic merits aside from being nicely situated on the rail line between Modena and Bologna.

Our first day on our own, a day of zero fun, was making us question our entire trip to Italy. But that was mainly our exhaustion talking. Our day would improve tomorrow, having nowhere to go but up.

Fourth of July 2024

Our annual Fourth of July to-do was really just an excuse this year to fire up the pizza oven and continue to perfect my recipe and techniques. I think we're getting close. Ann had invited Rob and Dyce to come over for pizza and as luck would have it, Dyce's parents are back stateside from their home in Tuscany. We are going to visit with them in September and haven't seen them since they came to a Christmas dinner at our house couple years back, a dinner of gnocchi and pork ragù.

Pesto Pizza Topped with Arugula and Mortadella

Despite the high temperature for the day in the low 90s, it was pleasant enough for us to sit out in the courtyard of our house, situated on the cooler east side. I didn't think it was going to happen, but we were cool enough until I fired up the pizza oven, that fire-breathing dragon pointed right in my direction.

Rob, Dyce, and Queen Ann

Neil and Lynne

The Queen and Her Rosé

Patty Green Helen Duschee Tempranillo Rosé
Our Go-To Patio Wine for 2024

To go with our rosé, red wine never being a thought this time of year, I put together a small antipasto board of tomatoes, pesto-marinated bocconcini, giardiniera, olives, Calabrese salame, finocchiona, rosemary crackers, and two spectacular washed rind cheeses, one from Vermont, the other from Switzerland. From Jasper Hill Farm in Vermont, we got a whole Willoughby, a small washed rind cow's milk cheese that has a soft buttery paste. From Switzerland, we got a piece of Aarewasser (literally Aare water) raw milk washed rind cheese that was phenomenal.

Antipasto Board

For pizzas, I set up to do a couple of different base pies and then provided extra toppings for people to add to their slices after the pies came out of the oven. For the pie bases, I had some fresh mozzarella, 'nduja, olive oil, pesto, and a can of San Marzano tomatoes. For additional toppings, we had arugula which Ann and I dearly love on pizza, fresh basil, extra pepperoncini, a block of pecorino romano, several slices of really fine mortadella, and a batch of honey with crushed Calabrian chili for those of us who like a bit of spice with our pizza.

My favorite pie was probably 'nduja and mozzarella topped with arugula and drizzled with Calabrian chili-honey.

Toppings: Arugula, Basil, Pepperoncini, Pecorino,
Mortadella, and Calabrian Chili Honey

First Pie: Margherita, the Classic
Hand-Crushed San Marzanos and Fresh Mozz
Torn Basil and a Drizzle of Olive Oil After Cooking

Pesto with Black Olives and Pepperoncini

After pizzas, we finished with an espresso sorbet that I made from espresso, sugar, salt, and a touch of vodka to help minimize crystallization. It was far too dark when I served it to take photos.

As I mentioned earlier, I think we are narrowing in on the ideal pizza recipe. This batch of dough, I made with King Arthur all-purpose flour, the retail equivalent of the Sir Gallahad flour we used to use at the restaurant, instead of Caputo 00. I like the flavor of this dough better than the more traditional Neapolitan dough made with the stronger Caputo 00. King Arthur AP has 11.7% protein versus 13.5% in Caputo's 00. Given that at retail here in the middle of nowhere Oregon I can only find King Arthur, I'm going to stick with it.

This batch was 65% hydration, 3% salt, and 2% yeast. Pizza recipes, like many doughs, are expressed as baker's formulas. So when I say 65% hydration, the water would weigh 65% of the amount that the flour weighs. So if I were starting with 1000 grams of flour, I would add 650 grams of water (and 30 grams of salt and 20 grams of yeast).

Given that I wanted to make a batch of eight 250-gram dough balls (a total of two  kilograms), using my baker's formula, simple algebra told me how much flour, water, salt, and yeast would yield two kilos of dough. And by the way, bakers and pastry chefs use metric amounts almost exclusively and they weigh everything. The math is way simpler when compared to using arbitrary English amounts and there is no mixing of volumetric amounts such as cups of flour and weights such as a half an ounce of salt.

Over the last series of experiments, we determined that we like 65% hydration versus the easier-to-handle 60%. 65% water to 100% flour is about as wet a dough as I feel comfortable handling right now, but I also think that the results are fantastic, so I am not sure that I will try to push the hydration further.

Another factor is the length of proofing, that is, the time that the yeast takes to cause the dough to rise. To a point, the longer the yeast works, the more flavor it gives the dough. We know empirically from previous tests that we like a dough that has taken 24-48 hours to sit and come together. I started this dough at 3pm on July 3, let it have its first rise on the counter over about three hours, and then balled it and refrigerated it overnight. I removed it from the refrigerator at 3pm the next day, and let it rise unrefrigerated until I fired the first pie at about 7:30pm.

Also critical is managing the heat of the pizza oven. Heretofore, I had cooked pies on max blast and at 7/8 max blast. Neither was really optimal, cooking the top way faster than the bottom and leaving the interior of the crust just slightly undercooked. I'm picking nits here, trying to make professional quality pizzas, not merely good enough pizzas.

This time, I tried a different technique. While I heated the stone in the oven on max blast, when I went to fire a pie, I turned the flame all the way down. This increased the cook time by at least half, from 60 seconds to about 90 seconds. This yielded a much more cooked bottom crust and a fully cooked interior.

I thought the next to last pie had too cooked a bottom (I was the only one who thought this) so the final pie, I turned the flame back to a quarter rather than all the way down. Consensus was that this pie was undercooked. So all the way down in the future it is.

Lament for a Sandwich

In rereading the words I wrote below, I'm not sure that the title word "lament" is exactly correct. It may be that the more precise word might be "rant" though that word implies some amount of anger. I don't feel anger, but rather sadness, so perhaps I am lamenting after all.

A good sandwich, that most simple and pleasing of foods, is in my experience apparently a difficult thing to find, maybe not unicorn rare, but only slightly more commonly found. A sandwich is such a simple creation that it should be possible to find a good one almost anywhere. Not so, at least in our part of the world. Ann and I, we've given up on finding a reliably decent sandwich in Bend, Oregon.

As far as we have tasted, there are no outstanding delis or sandwich shops here in town. At least, the ones we have tried have left us wanting for the quality of sandwich that we expect. Clearly, we are in the minority in town, because time and again, acquaintances and web reviewers alike recommend to us the same places and while some are better than others, not a one of them is demonstrably a paragon of sandwich-making.

Maybe the simplicity of a sandwich is its downfall. After all, in a dish with very few ingredients, each must shine: there is no room to hide subpar ingredients or technique. A great sandwich really comes down to just two things, two very simple things: attention to detail in sourcing excellent ingredients and attention to detail in preparing them in a caring manner.

Entire Loaf Italian Cold Cut Sandwich, Feeds 4-6 People

What's really amazing and saddening to us is that creating a great sandwich is really easy to do. That is, we do it at home. Out of necessity, sadly. And if we can do it at home, certainly sandwich shops can do it as well, if not better than we can.

The really sad aspect of this dearth of great sandwiches is that delis and restaurants have all the advantages over us home cooks when it comes to making great sandwiches. They have access to great quality breads or even can make their own. They don't have to rely on pre-packaged deli meats, instead being able to slice their meats as needed or for the day. Some places even cure some of their own meats: I used to make my own pastrami at my restaurant, from first class meat and spiced the way I like it. Clear advantage to the deli over the home cook.

What I, as a retired chef, don't understand is why restaurants will not put the effort in to make a great sandwich. Is it because in a tourist town they have all the business they can handle? Is it because they don't care? Or is it because they are ignorant about what makes a great sandwich? Is it because a sandwich is too pedestrian to put effort into? Maybe the feeling is if customers don't care enough, a mediocre product is just fine?

Or is it because they don't think they can put out a top-quality product and still make a profit? As a restaurateur, I can certainly understand the last question, but being retired from the business, I no longer have a handle on the food, rent, insurance, licensing, and labor costs that drive the profit equation. But my restaurant consultant gut tells me that this is not the case: a great sandwich can be a profitable offering and a top-quality sandwich will drive volume sales.

To illustrate the care necessary to make a great sandwich, let's walk through making an outstanding Italian cold cut sandwich. It's not inexpensive to make, but it is what I expect, not the very lame examples that I have had at several places all over town.

A Single Serving

Select Great Bread. For a sandwich, select a loaf with a nice crisp crust and a soft, airy crumb. The crust cannot be so thick or so crunchy that it is hard to eat, however, or the bread so dense that the bread to filling ratio is off. I would love to be able to find such bread in single sandwich portions, but no longer being in the trade, I cannot. But I can still find great large loaves, thus, I make one large sandwich from an entire loaf and slice individual portions from it. Shout out to the Village Baker whose Italian-style striata loaf is one of the very best in town.

Source Top Quality Cold Cuts. I really like a good mix of flavors and textures and I find that four different types of cold cuts is just about perfect. I like the mix that I used for this sandwich: silky prosciutto di Parma, unctuous mortadella, smoky bresaola, and for the soppressata, I really like a spicy Calabrese. Great meats are not cheap, but you don't need a lot to make a great sandwich.

Select a Great Cheese. While I like provolone, a nice aged and dry one, I really adore thinly sliced fresh mozzarella on an Italian cold cut sandwich. An 8-ounce ball of good fresh cow's milk mozzarella  sliced very thinly is plenty for this whole-loaf sandwich. I would save the expensive and decadent bufala for something other than a sandwich.

Other Garnishes. For me, I like one of either fresh tomato slices or roasted red peppers. Both would make the sandwich too sloppy for my liking. We usually end up with roasted red peppers because tomatoes are rarely in season in Oregon and let's face it, Oregon does not grow as good tomatoes as hotter climates with long growing seasons. Furthermore, shipping ripe tomatoes from such locales is a losing proposition; great tomatoes do not travel. In my book, it is better to omit tomatoes than to use sub-par tomatoes, something that is lost on most restaurants. Also mandatory for me are a great leaf lettuce, thinly sliced red onions, and if available, fresh basil leaves.

Prep the Red Onions. Onion is critical for an Italian cold cut sandwich. Not only does it offer a slightly crunchy texture, its real purpose is to supply a bit of acidity to balance the fat of the cold cuts and cheese. Slice a red onion into very thin rings. If you don't have the knife skills for this, use a benriner slicer. Rub the onions gently in your hands with a bit of Kosher salt and place them in a non-reactive bowl. Cover with water and let stand five minutes. Drain off the water and cover them again for another five minutes. Squeeze out the water and the onions are ready for use. This process tones down some of the very aggressive onion qualities and makes them sweeter and much more palatable on a sandwich.

Prep a Tangy Dressing. A good vinegary dressing is essential to help counterbalance the fat of the meats and cheese. It's not possible to make a good Italian cold cut sandwich of the quality that I demand without making a decent dressing, which is neither hard, nor time consuming. I start with a couple tablespoons of red wine vinegar in a bowl, to which I add a mashed filet of anchovy, a pinch of salt, a teaspoon of dried oregano, a half a teaspoon of dried basil, and a tiny dab of a good mustard. After whisking this together with a fork, I start adding about 6 tablespoons of great extra virgin olive oil dribble by dribble, bringing the dressing together with the fork.

Toast the Bread. After slicing the loaf in half, put it on a sheet tray and drizzle it lightly with a little extra virgin olive oil. Then it goes under the broiler (here is where I really miss having a commercial salamander) until it lightly browns around the edges with maybe a hint of browning in the center. You want the bread warm with crispy edges, but you don't really want to toast it hard as the next step is to put dressing on the bread and you want that dressing to soak in a bit, difficult to do if the bread is highly toasted.

Dress the Bread. Spoon the dressing over both halves of the bread and spread it lightly but evenly with the back of the spoon. You want fairly even coverage without soaking any part of the bread.

Build the Sandwich. Lay all the ingredients on the base of the loaf and then put the lid on. I built the sandwich thus: roasted red peppers, destemmed leaf lettuce, prosciutto, mortadella, calabrese, bresaola, fresh tender basil leaves, red onions, and then fresh mozzarella. Another area where many restaurants miss the mark: I think it is important to season the roasted red peppers (or tomatoes) and the mozzarella with a little salt and pepper while building the sandwich.

I know this is a lot of words about making a simple sandwich, but this is a good description of what is necessary to build a great sandwich. And none of it is difficult which leads me right back to the initial question. Why cannot we find a great sandwich in Bend?

Italian Sub

As far as I know, the Italian sub has nothing to do with Italy, but is one of America's favorite meals. I imagine that we all have our own definition of the true Italian sub but there's no denying that whatever we think an Italian sub is or whatever we call it, be it a sub, a hero, a grinder, or a hoagie, it is one of our favorite sandwiches. It certainly is my all-time favorite.

Now, That's an Italian Sub!

I had a terrible one recently on crappy bread slathered in mayonnaise from a local sandwich shop whose claim to fame is that it is the best sandwich shop here in the Winchester area. That's a rather inauspicious claim, alas. That experience made me realize that if I didn't want to make my own Italian sub, I was going to have to travel to Northern Virginia to get a great one.

And that opportunity arose this weekend when we went in to McLean to spend Father's Day with Ann's parents. We dropped by a store that is widely renowned throughout the region for its subs. In anticipation, I didn't really eat breakfast and so I was starving when we arrived there around 2:30 in the afternoon. Our shopping for Father's Day dinner (mezze rigatoni with artichokes, pancetta, rosemary, and Fontina) complete, we sat down to eat our lunch, a sub for me, a slice of pizza for Ann's mother Mary, and a calzone for Ann.

Just opening the wrapping, I was underwhelmed by the soft, chewy sub roll. I get it that some people like this soft squishy bread, but count me out of that crowd. I want a crusty loaf with some real chew. And that soft bread was enough to kill the experience for me, not that you could have told by the way that I inhaled the sandwich, starving as I was. The ingredients in the sandwich were really good and the sweet peppers in the middle were outstanding; it was just the bread that was lacking.

While I was shopping for wine for our Father's Day dinner, Ann had the presence of mind to get a half-pound each of provolone, prosciutto di San Daniele, mortadella, coppa (capocollo), and a nice soppressata. The original thinking was that we would do antipasti before our pasta (ouch, that was punful), but it turned out that Bob was starving and we got straight into dinner proper, leaving us all the cold cuts to take home.

The quality of the cold cuts was really good. The mortadella and soppressata were pretty good, not the best we've ever had, but plenty good for sandwiches. The coppa was flat out amazing. The prosciutto was off-the-charts good. The provolone was provolone.

And so last evening, I sliced some tomato and red onion, washed a little lettuce, and toasted some really good bread. Before I toasted the bread, I drizzled the cut surface in olive oil. After toasting, I drizzled it with Sherry vinegar and sprinkled it with salt, pepper, and dried oregano. And then it was a matter of building the sandwiches, one of which you see in the photo above.

Ann said to me with no disrespect intended to my skills as a chef, "It doesn't take any skill to make a sandwich like this, does it?" No, it doesn't. Anyone given these ingredients could make such an amazing sandwich. So why in the name of the culinary gods do they not?

Panino

On the way home from lunch, somehow we ended up at the grocery store scavenging ingredients for panini. While Ann headed for the bakery to find a reasonable loaf of bread, I went to the deli counter where I was able to get fresh mozzarella, roasted red peppers, mortadella, capocollo, prosciutto, and a couple kinds of hard salame. I will never forget the face that the girl behind the deli counter made as she was slicing the prosciutto. "This stinks," she said, while pulling a face. Her partner agreed. I guess if your only frame of reference is pink loaf "ham," then perhaps smelling a real ham is very different. But since when does it stink?

Ready for the Press



Pressed and Grilled

Here you see the sandwich layers: pesto on the bread, salame and capocollo, mortadella, prosciutto, mozzarella, peppers, and more pesto on the top bread.

How I Love Mortadella!

Special emphasis on the mortadella here because I really love it and it has been such a long time since I have had any. And because it is a chance for me to admit publicly that I was wrong and Ann was right. I was convinced that our grocery store wouldn't have mortadella. I was wrong. Ann was right. And no, she didn't make me say that! Sad to say that this would never pass muster in Italy: look how crude the fat is and how uneven the distribution. I really miss the slightly spicy, paper thin, plate-sized slices of true Mortadella di Bologna. But still, if this is all I can get, I will take it.