my two previous trips to venice were not huge successes, culinary-wise.
i was a backpacker the first time, too broke to eat in restaurants and happy enough to subsist on gelati for days on end (tiramisu flavor, preferably).
the second time - the time megumi's suitcase emerged on the luggage carousel from our plane from JFK spilling out its contents - we traipsed up and down bridges, alongside canal and on the planks erected for the acqua alta in search of any restaurant open during january, the month all of venice notoriously slumbers in preparation for carnevale, and in the dead hours of the midafternoon, no less. we finally found a place, and it wasn't memorable.
this time, i ate grandly. in a little place in san polo: a spaghetti vongole followed by chunks of squid steeped in a black ink sauce. at osteria del garanghelo, in castello, an insalata mista, spaghetti vongole (again) and calamari fritto. and at the lovely al covo: "moeche" fritte con cipolle, patate a fiamifero e polenta - beautiful little medallions of soft-shell crab - and amaretto biscuits with the bill.
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