Italian supermarkets = heaven

A couple of us pigs went on a four-night jaunt to Venice and instead of staying in a hotel, rented a cute little apartment in the Castello area (authentically Venetian with only a few brave tourists, crumbling buildings and grafitti-smattered streets). The place was delightful and had a full kitchen. Armed with Italian language skills and culinary know-how, we decided to pig out at the grocery store and cook all our own meals. They usually added up to less than half the price of what if might have cost in a horribly over-priced Venetian restaurant.

One night we had a smattering of antipasti, such as bresaola, mortadella, prosciutto, olives, mozarella (latte di bufala), sun-dried tomatoes, artichoke hearts and fresh bread from the bakery down the street. A tip on mortadella - always try to get it as thinly sliced as possible, like tissue paper, so that it practically melts in your mouth.

On the same evening, we had a first course of a mix of ravioli, some filled with radicchio and prosciutto, others with pumpkin, both specialities of north-eastern Italy. With little morsels already that tasty, just a simple sauce of prosciutto barely fried in olive oil and single cream (plus a dash of pepper) is necessary. To round out the meal, we split a thin beef steak.

The following night was shellfish heaven. After we'd sampled leftover antipasti, we scarfed down big bowls of spaghetti alle vongole (clam sauce pasta) and shared a bowl of steamed muscles (just with a bit of lemon). We'd bought the clams and muscles at the local fishmonger. Spaghetti alle vongole is my favorite pasta ever. All you do is fry a bit of garlic in olive oil, add a cup or so of white wine, let it reduce, and then add the whole clams and cook until they all open up. Remove any that don't. Finally, add chopped parsley, a tiny bit of salt and generous pepper and serve with the spaghetti. Words do not describe the joy this dish brings me.

Monday night we wanted clams again, but because no one fishes on Sundays, there is no fishmonger on Mondays. Tragic. So we ate potato and pumpkin gnocchi with the prosciutto and cream sauce again with steamed romanesco broccoli as a side and another thin beef steak to split. Romanesco broccoli is pretty hard to find, by the way, outside of Italy. It's a cross in taste between cauliflower and broccoli and is chartreuse in color. But the best part about it is it's construction. A beautiful thing.

Verdict = When in Venice, cook your own.