What I like about going skiing is that you feel a constant hunger and you also feel that it’s ok to eat whatever you can get by. I suspect this is some form of early evolutionary instinct, when we’re outdoors we require more energy. Energy in the form of burgers, lasagna, chips, schnitzel, hot chocolate and apfelstrudel.
Because that’s what they usually serve on the mountain tops. I had an epiphany when I had sausage with chips and ketchup. The Italian considered the processed sausage revolting, I felt a deep satisfaction as the sausage reminded me of outdoorsy days with school.
In Val di Sole’s defense I must say that they also served beef carpaccio with artichokes, mozzarella salad and frikadeller for those not interested in greasy fast food.
I enjoy greasy food to a certain point, but it will never beat the menu of a gourmet restaurant. The Italian wanted us to go somewhere nice so in the midst of a heavy snowfall we went to Madonna di Campiglio, a neighbouring resort to Folgarida, to explore the food of Il Gallo Cedrone.
I knew from the start I was going to like it. Decorated in a modern ski lodge way, it felt elegant yet cosy. The staff knew what they were doing and our Tignanello bottle couldn’t have been more lovingly decanted. The wine went down like water.
So did the appetizers. Generous portions appeared, with seared tuna, lobster, courgette with lemon topping and a cod canape, making their way through our gluttonous mouths. Gluttony is the strong glue that keeps the Italian and I together. When we see a menu we like, we’re in our best element.
This menu however, was a beast to conquer. Mostly because I desired everything. Black cod in olive oil, loin of deer, fish soup, homemade tortelloni filled with goose foie gras and other exquisites waved for my attention. When I saw the linguine with chickpea flour, truffle oil and langoustine being carried out to other guests, I knew this was what my heart desired (not to mention my stomach).
The pasta was quickly swiftly followed by veal loin with a cavolo nero quiche and morels. Although the Italian pointed out that the veal was a tad dry, I found an easy solution to combat this issue – drink more wine.
The night came to a prompt end when our taxi driver marched through the door. The poor man almost had to drag us out as we both were so comfortable we felt like we were a part of the interior. The snow hadn’t settled the slightest, and as we didn’t want to risk getting stuck, or plough through the snow (me in heels, the Italian in appropriate sneakers),we left our seats.
So we cancelled our hazelnut mousse with black forest biscuit and left Il Gallo Cedrone, agreeing that this was a meal that would definitely beat next day’s mountain top lunch.