Fountain of Delight

Do you cook at home? Do you make risotto? It's a culinary challenge, involving lots of chopping, stirring, pre-measured ingredients, pots & pans for the base, the stock, the flavorings. Guys say that making risotto with their girlfriends is the ultimate aphrodisiac: there's lots of stuff to do and taste together, with a lush, aromatic payoff.

Risotto in a restaurant, on the other hand, is all-too-often hit and miss. At best, it's sublime, but at worst, it's an excuse to dump leftovers into boiled rice. At La Fontana Siciliana, there's no question: it's an unqualified hit.

In the cozy, low-ceilinged room overlooking a courtyard fountain, under banners of the Sicilian flag, dinners are served at antique library tables set for two. Opera music plays discreetly. The owner's daughter takes your order. Start with a bruschetta, perhaps, or a caprese salad (the mozzarella served on orange slices rather than flavorless tomatoes).

The special's a risotto with chestnuts and sausage, not to be missed. In the kitchen, owner-chef Mario Fuenzalida prepares the risotto to order: arborio rice, chestnuts, sausage and truffle oil, topped with shavings of parmigiano-reggiano and garnished with an ornamental swoosh of balsamic. The flavors and textures come together effortlessly, as they should: Mario's been cooking for decades and has nurtured a whole school of Italian restaurateurs (La Vita è Bella, Mondello and Enza Cucina Siciliana to name three).

No one else in town even thinks of putting pasta con le sarde on the menu. It's a traditional Sicilian dish: spaghetti with a sauce based on sardines, fennel, pine nuts and raisins, too time-consuming and complicated for most kitchens. Even Mario doesn't have it every day, so call ahead.

La Fontana Siciliana, 120 Blanchard Ave., 206-441-1045

One Last Gelato

Rimini and Riccione, on the Adriatic Riviera, have 1,000 hotels, 227 beachfront lidos, 4 theme parts and 30 discos. It's Europe's most popular seaside resort. There's even a webcam or two.

 

The weather has turned cool and the beaches are devoid of tourists, but the locals still hang out at the gelateria. How could I leave without a two-scoop, 3-euro cone of caffe e nocciole?

A Tale of Three Campari

It was the best of drinks ... a far, far better one than I have ever known.

With apologies to Dickens, an ode toItaly's favorite aperitif, Campari.

We're in Bologna, about 8 on a moonlit night and the Piazza Maggiore is crowded with drinkers having their aperitifs and pre-dinner snacks.



At first bar, order for a straight Campari bitter brings the full-on set-up: three fingers of Campari in a tall glass; separate containers for ice, swizzle sticks, orange slice, soda water, mini-sandwiches, peanuts. 3 euros.

Under adjacent arcade, barman at second cafe responds to request for Prosecco bitter by topping up tumbler with sparkling wine kept in icebucket. Snacks are set out on bar; one helps oneself. 3.50 euros.



Third place, on sidestreet, is one of Bologna's hot spots. Calls itself Nu-Lounge. Has intelligent cocktail list, all 8 euros: Martinis, Muddles, Fashion, Frozen. From page labeled Classics, ask for Negroni: equal parts Campari, sweet vermouth and gin. Barman snags two bottles in one hand, third bottle in the other, upends all three. Does this often, it appears. Best snacks of the night, too.

Citta Slow

Literally a "Slow Sunday" in Orvieto yesterday: no traffic, food & wine tastings everywhere, a full moon. Six years ago Orvieto was one of five Italian towns to formalize the Cittaslow vision that local goverments should actively promote "good living."

The town perches on cliff above lush Umbrian countryside. Enthusiastic guides from Orvieto Promotion spent afternoon feeding us local specialties, showing off Etruscan caves, glorious cathedral. Got to the hotel about 7 PM, walked onto balcony and reached for the camera.

Aperitivo in Rimini

The Adriatic "Riviera"--20 miles of sand backed by 20 miles of wall-to-wall hotels. Overrun by Germans, Scandinavians and even Italians until mid-September, it's almost deserted now.

But it's been a brilliant fall day, the air brisk, the skies blue, and, at the Lungomare Hotel in Riccione, it ends with Italy's version of happy hour: Campari bitter and complimentary antipasto.

Barman looks like Fabio, with dark hair. Dinner? Ladies perched on slippery stools decide to ignore lavish buffet upstairs, order another round instead. Wise choice.