An interesting meal in Parma
Sarah and I carefully counted our lira and choose a restaurant in our guidebook. A dinner out in Parma was a priority, the city famed for prosciutto and Parmigiano. We arrived that day from the Ligurian region where we had been obsessed with the sweet basil Genovese pesto (see Genoa).
What food discoveries would we make in the Emilia-Romagna region?
Snug at our rustic wooden table, we were surrounded by boisterous Italian voices and the aroma of sweet garlic. Is that bacon I smell?
The scrawls on the chalkboard menu were unfamiliar. As a vegetarian, Sarah was careful to stick with dishes she recognized. Scanning the written menu, she spotted pesto and was ready to order.
Caressing the soft leather menu, I lingered over the elegant lettering. I swirled the red house wine in my mouth. Earthy. Sarah and I often shared groceries backpacking together so meat would be a nice change. I saw prosciutto in the Primi (first course) section. I am pretty sure that’s a pasta dish. We placed our order.
A sweet saltiness wafted over me as the waiter placed the hot plate in front of me. Score. There were hefty pieces of prosciutto in my creamy fettuccine. I licked my lips and picked up the smooth fork.
I looked over at Sarah. Her eyes were wide, jaw agape.
No speck of green graced her plate. No heady basil scent. What is that?
A small mound of reddish brown mush sat in the centre of the white plate. Two pieces of toasted bread to the side.
Sarah shifted on her hard chair. Slowly shaking her head, “No eat meat.”
All I caught from the waiter’s rapid fire response was two English words. “Raw. Horse.” That can’t be right.
Two crucial, and sadly ignored, words followed pesto on the menu to denote the Parma speciality of horse tartar (pesto di cavallo). This was not in our guidebook.
Seeing our puzzled looks, the waiter nodded and took the plate away. A few minutes later he brought her a fresh pasta dish. It was not basil pesto. We were not in Liguria any more. But it was meat free, and delicious.
This is one entry from my 1992 European backpacking trip with my friend Sarah. If you want to start at the beginning, please check out The journey starts in Nice.
