Just having returned from Verona, I’m full of it. Bigoli I mean. It’s a rather thick spaghetti. But it’s not spaghetti at all. The production of Bigoli requires a very special extruding tool called a bigolaro.

In my opinion, bigoli is best with gravy-like sauces. I’m talking asino here, donkey. Or horse if you must. Or duck. In fact, bigoli was traditionally made from buckwheat pasta and duck eggs, so it has an affinity for duck.

The picture of the bigoli with lake fish sauce above was taken at the Ristorante La Plume in Pescheira del Garda, an interesting town (for a day trip) that is a fortified island in the southeast corner of Lake Garda. The restaurant is one of those fancy looking places out of town that you have reservations about because you think they only serve tour buses and rich folks from New Jersey, but the menu sounded like it served local lake fish and it turned it was an excellent choice for lunch.

The other memorable bigoli dish I had was with donkey sauce in the Osteria al Duca which is right in the house they label as Romeo’s house in Verona. Another decent restaurant in which some bus people did show up. We snagged a table out front and watched the tourists take pictures of the plaque calling the brick wall they were looking at as the one that Romeo lived behind when he wasn’t crawling all over sweet Juliet’s balcony. See below for that.

Bigoli is thick and chewy, which is the reason I think it makes a fine match with those duck and meat gravy type sauces. And it’s an excuse to go to the Veneto, which is quickly moving up on the list of my favorite Italian regions. You should go.

Here’s more on Bigoli and a picture of a bigolaro

Verona is a very nice city. People come there to see opera in the famous Roman-era Verona Arena, the third largest in Italy, with seating for 25,000. They also come to see Casa di Giulietta, the house of Juliet of Romeo and Juliet fame.

Of course, it isn’t the real house of Juliet. But that doesn’t matter.

In the courtyard there is a bronze statue of Juliet (or Giulietta, prettier in Italian methinks). You are meant to fondle it. Various legends exist to validate your antisocial but passionate need to rub your big meathooks over the various bronzed body parts of delicately rendered Giulietta. A manly cupping of the right breast is supposed to make you lucky in love. Believe me young man, you’ll need it.

A more feminine touch of the same breast (or perhaps something else) will make you fertile as hell, according to some. Evidently Italian women have stayed away, considering their birth rate has been falling like the economy and Berlusconi’s sterling reputation lately.

But you know the old legends. I won’t bore you with them. But what I want you to notice is how “touched” some other parts of the statue are, as noted by their burnished and bright appearance. For example, nobody said you could touch her left breast. No legend has been written about the half-covered handful. Yet you (I mean the collective tourist “you”) have violated Giulietta’s left breast despite her hand, which seems to be guarding it. Will you be unlucky in love? Well, you reprobate, I hope so.

It didn’t take me long to see some miserable examples of such kinky public displays of bronze abuse. See the picture. Shame on those two. And it’s the off-season. I suspect in the summer tourists are all over the poor Giulietta. Look at her arms. Shiny. Shameful.

But, hey, I’m not one to moralize. I just want to let you know. It’s the right breast. Repeat after me, “Right breast. Right breast for luck in love.” Is that so hard?

Ok, so remember that I said the house isn’t really Giulietta’s house? Well, I happened to find a reference to the house from way back in the late 19th century. Theodore Child wrote about Verona in a piece called Summer holidays, travelling notes in Europe. He finds Verona a somewhat “earthy” place. Juliet’s house didn’t have the balcony it has today. Well, not one without a pit toilet on it anyway.

Let us begin by a visit to Juliet’s house, “la casa di Giulietta,” as the Veronese call it. It is situated in the very centre of the mediaeval town, in the Via di Capello, on the left-hand side as you leave the market place, or Piazza dell’ Erbe, which was at once the market and the forum of the old republic. Imagine a narrow, stuffy street lined with antique houses, among which is noticeable a red brick facade with arched Roman windows, some of which retain remnants of architectural decoration. On the third flat is a stone balcony half broken away and resting on huge stone consoles. The facade is divided into two by a big water pipe, and the windows, irregularly distributed, are hung with rags and other evidences of poor tenantry. On the ground floor is the shop of a baker, with the sign “ Paneficio Fratelli Trenadii,” and the immense archway which gives en- trance to the Capulet house. Over this archway swings a sign of a cardinal’s red hat, and above it are the words “ Al capello, stallo,” that is to say “The Hat Stables;” other signs on the archway say “Noleggio cavalli,” “Horses to hire,” and repeat “ Nel capello, stallo.”

Beneath the archway the passage slopes up, and you enter a vast courtyard, the four sides of which are occupied by miserable buildings terraced with rough wooden balconies, on which linen is spread to dry and to absorb the perfumes of this most foul-smelling spot. On each balcony is built a wooden shed on which is written the word “Cessi “ which means water-closet ; the staircases are black holes thick with dirt; the courtyard is crowded with carts and vehicles of all kinds and redolent of ammoniacal smells ; and next to the sta- bles is a “ Gaffe Trattoria,” a cafe and a restaurant where you can be lodged for the night. Over this filthy and stinking courtyard, enthroned in a flourishing vine plant, an image of the Virgin presides at one end, while at the other end, on the back facade of Juliet’s house, are carved in low relief the speaking arms of the Capulets or Cap- elletti, namely, a hat, or “ Capello.” And it was here that Juliet had her garden ; here that Romeo climbed her balcony; here that the two lovers poured out their souls, until they were surprised by the song of the lark, and the dawn warned them that they must part. This is the house; there can be no doubt about it ; and we can imagine the Capulets and their retainers swaggering out of this vast courtyard and down under the archway to the street, ready to fall foul of those hated Montagues. But where was Juliet’s balcony?

Well, the balcony wasn’t built, but no matter. Interesting to see the contrast between the Italy of 1889 and that of today.

Visit Verona. It’s a super place. The courtyard of Casa di Giulietta is free. The fondling is free, although if you go early in the morning you’ll have the most time to spend with your hand on the bronze objects of your desire. But there’s enough in Verona to keep you busy for a good week or so if you want to get into the minutia of a historic city that hasn’t been too harsh on its heritage.

Don’t know where Juliet’s house is? Well, we’ve marked it on our Verona Map.

Oh, and click the pictures in this article to see them bigger. That’s always fun.

Beware.  ATM cards used in the ATM machine, or ‘bancomat’ as it is known here, of the Via Paolo Sarpi 64, Banca Intesa Sanpaolo branch in Milan, Italy, have been cloned.

My other half ‘lost’ €350 after this sum was withdrawn from a Banca Intesa Sanpaolo ATM in Turin, and another friend of ours, also a Banca Intesa Sanpaolo customer lost €500 as a result of a withdrawal from a Banca Intesa Sanpaolo ATM in Bergamo last weekend.  The money will be refunded.

From what I’ve heard, around 200 people who used the ATM in this location have had their ATM cards cloned.

The Banca Intesa Sanpaolo bank has been putting blocks on the cards affected meaning that they will not function.

People whose cards have been cloned will need to go to a carabinieri station and make a ‘denuncia’ – report the theft to the police.  If this is not done, then any money which has been withdrawn illegally will probably not be refunded.

Here is a map showing the location of the affected Banca Intesa Sanpaolo branch:

Location of the Via Paolo Sarpi 64, Banca Intesa Sanpaolo branch in Milan

ATM cards used here in the last week or so have been cloned.

If you have used the Banca Intesa Sanpaolo ATM machine in Via Paolo Sarpi shown on the map above in the last two weeks or so, check your back account for unauthorised withdrawals.

I do not know if foreign bank ATM cards are affected, nor am I aware what the situation regarding credit cards used for cash advances is.  However, it would not be a bad idea to check bank balances and credit card statements carefully if you think you may have used the ATM in question.

Actually, if you have been to Milan recently, and used an ATM machine, it’s probably not a bad idea to carry out a few checks, just in case.  This may not be an isolated case.

If you read this and know someone who might be affected, let them know, and spread the word in general, as this information  may help a few people out.

Should you need to contact the Banca Intesa Sanpaolo bank, here is a link to the English version of the Banca Intesa Sanpaolo website contact page, where you will find numbers which can be called from both within and outside Italy.

How to Spot A Modified ATM

The crime of stealing PIN codes from ATM cards, which is known as ’skimming’, is becoming more common in Italy.  The bank affected in this case was a main branch, and the ATM machine concerned is inside a bank foyer, not directly on the street, as is often the case.

To avoid having your card skimmed, and then cloned, try placing your hand over the keys while you enter your PIN code.

Look out for tiny holes through which a tiny camera will record your PIN.  Sometimes there will be a panel above the keyboard, other times there may be a fake brochure rack to one side of the ATM.  Watch out for obvious signs such as ill-fitting panels, wires or other tell tale evidence.

Try to use ATMs which have video surveillance cameras around them – this makes it more difficult for the ’skimmers’ to install their devices.

If in doubt, and the bank is open, tell bank staff that there is something suspicious.

These people move very fast, and may wait until midnight so they can make two withdrawals at the maximum limit allowed for a day.

This post on the Consumerist site has more information and photographs too:  Here’s What A Card Skimmer Looks Like On An ATM

Never Trust a Thin Cook and Other Lessons from Italy’s Culinary Capital is the whole title of a book by Eric Dregni. Mr. Dregni spent some time in the seldom visited Modena teaching English to somewhat reticent students. They taught him a lot about Italian culture.

(Note to the FTC and disclosure: I received an advanced reading copy of the book. Free. Second, I am not by trade a book reviewer. So there.)

That said, let me just add about this book, “I couldn’t put it down.”

Ok, usually that last sentence is attached to a review of one of those “one in a zillion books” that are the most wonderful books on the planet. I’m not putting “Never Trust a Thin Cook” in that category. What I’m saying is that the book is written in the present tense. I’ve nothing against the present, I live in it and have used its tense often—in the 70s. But every time I picked up Never Trust a Thin Cook I got a strange vibe. The problem is that I’m now bothered by the lack of contrast between the present tense dialog and the narrative, and the whole things ends up seeming to be dated (but still enticing, in a garter belts and silk nylons sort of way). So there was nothing to do but pick it up and read it through—which I did on the plane to Italy last week.

That said, it was a good, honest read. Dregni is at his best when he’s describing the exchanges in his classroom. The students are far more interested in a cultural exchange with the American in their midst than they are in learning to speak Italian. In this way, Dregni’s narrative rings far truer than those of many big names who’ve come to cash in on America’s fascination with Italian culture. Italophiles will want to read this book.

You’ll learn that Italy doesn’t really have a word for “safe.” That explains a lot, especially about the driving, eh?

The word safe doesn’t really exist in Italian. Sicuro is just “secure.” My students suggest non pericoloso (not dangerous) but add that everything has a certain amount of danger, so “safe” is a paradox.

See, these students are smart!

Modena, besides being a bit of a culinary capital, is also home to Ferrari (or, close enough). The students are quite interested in the hand made cars that have come to be a symbol of Italian style. They know all sorts of facts that would make a student of Italian culture envious, including the fact that they make the seats bigger for the notorious, expanded American backsides. A student who works for Ferrari points out how the bigger American seats get tested:

We found the biggest eater in the company cafeteria, put him in a prototype, and let him take a few laps.”

Ok, so I won’t let any more cats out of their burlap bag, but I enjoyed the book and found it to be an excellent introduction to Italian culture and to a part of Italy that most folks don’t visit, despite their infatuation with the local Balsamic vinegar and other fine products of Emilia Romagna. There is one contrast that does stand out clearly: the difference between Italian and American culture. Dregni sure got that right.

Buy the book (if you want) at Amazon: Never Trust a Thin Cook and Other Lessons from Italy’s Culinary Capital.

This week’s Guess Where in Italy? photo-quiz features a photograph of a famous Italian café stroke confectioners.  I’m not going to say in which city it can be found, unless nobody guesses.

Aside from having an fascinating history, incredible buildings, fabulous food and wine, and lively people, Italy has some fascinating coffee houses.  Not really a surprise when you understand that coffee is the national drink in Italy.  What is surprising though, is that in some of Italy’s elegant cafés, the future of Italy has been decided.

Oh, and, sorry, but no Italians are allowed to try to guess today (Wednesday)!  I think guessing where this café is, and what it is called, will be too easy for some Italians!

On to the picture.

Where is this Impressive Looking Café in Italy?

See if you can give the name the city and the café.

Where is this café in Italy?

You have until Saturday to post your guesses in a comment below.  If nobody manages to come up with the right answer, I’ll post a clue this Friday.

REMEMBER: No Italians can participate today!

There is no prize for getting the answer right, as this is just for fun, and for you to show the world how well you know Italy.

Go for it!

PS I apologise for not having produced a Guess Where in Italy? post last week, I was tied up with something else.