La Fiorentina

While wandering the streets of Venice a few weeks ago, Kailee the Australian and I talked about some of the things we missed from back home. We laughed about vegemite and how the water really does go down the drain in the opposite direction, when Kailee said she missed meat.

It's true, in northern Italy, meat isn't one of the staples. Its pasta, pasta, pasta! Well actually, with my second host family, we have pasta for the first course, and usually meat as a second. But it's not real meat, it's paper-thin slices of beef, fried in olive oil, or sausage, or sometimes little pieces of roast beef. I've had chicken probably 3 times since I've been here.

"I just want a big, juicy steak, ya know? Like, a thick piece of meat!" mused Kailee, and strangely, even though I'm not a red-meat kind of girl, I found myself agreeing with her. The conversation was forgotten.. until tonight.

I ate a piece of Fiorentina in Florence, but didn't pay much attention to it. I was in a restaurant at the time, and was enjoying what I had ordered too much to really pay attention to the food my host father was offering me.

My host brother came up to my room, to ask me what I wanted for dinner. My options were pasta, raw fish (sashimi) or Fiorentina. Not being in the mood for pasta or raw tuna, I replied "Fiorentina, grazie" without giving it much thought.

Half an hour later, I was called down to dinner. I munched on salad and bread as my host brother wolfed down his pasta and sashimi, wondering when the second course would be ready. Finally, Annie brought in the Fiorentina.

Which was half a cow.

No, not really, but it was the biggest T-bone steak I have ever laid eyes on. Huge, juicy, cooked to pink perfection.. and mamma mia, the tantalizing aroma! It was amazing. Perfect. I have become a steak-loving American. That's all I have to say about that.