Mountain Climbing for Dinner

I went to IHOP this morning because I had a gift card and a day off and I was considering what to post tonight as I was eating and the pancakes were only that much when drowned in strawberry syrup (which does taste pretty good). However, it seemed a little boring to tell you a story of how I got $25 dollars towards my next breakfast at a charity event... I thought of another past story though which is a little odd, though this time, instead of ordinary junk food like my previous posts, it is very, very, high quality Italian food, in Italy.

On a trip that I took to the very mountainous and beautiful Amalfi Coast last summer with my parents and my grandparents, we were not short one day of a good meal, and after a day of finding that my grandfather was suffering from anemia (thank God that he's a doctor himself), we had reservations in a hidden restaurant in Ravello, one of the highest places above the sea on that coastline, called Villa Maria. After taking a short drive there from our hotel, it was too our disdain that the directions unfortunately took us up some very, very steep streets. Without exaggeration, it took us about 20 minutes to get halfway there at my speed and I was hungry! On the way up we coincidentally ran into the "general manager" of the restaurant, who continued to talk up this place so we wouldn't go back down and eat somewhere else.

We eventually reached the top of this mountain and sat down to our table with a fantastic view. The waiter came and offered us each a Bellini (champagne and fresh white peach) for out efforts, and we all gladly accepted. It had been an entertaining experience because the waiter continued to walk over to us and point to another mountain close by and would say something like: "this is where we get out tomatoes from." That's comforting.

I was the only one in my family to order three dishes instead of two which were: a plate of cured meats, tagliatelle with mushrooms, and the most tender and flavorful steak I have eaten with a mild green pepper sauce. Once we all finished eating, we went over to the "general manager" to complement him, he thanked us and with an embarrassed look on his face asked me where I thought he got his beef from. I shrugged. He then looked me in the eye and said, "Omaha, Nebraska."

WHAT?!? I went all the way to Italy to get an Omaha Steak? Yes... Let's get something straight, 95% of the beef in Italy (with the exception of Florence) sucks. So, I would say that it was a good move on his part. I left the restaurant laughing with quite a full stomach for a walk down the mountain. Crap.

This is almost exactly where we ate.