The next morning, fortified by the kind of determination that only the promise of deep-fried dough can provide, we set out for Pasticceria Tonolo, following the sage advice of @JenKalb and @Phoenikia in my planning thread, our mission was to acquire and consume Carnivale treats.
We arrived around 10 a.m. to find the place absolutely teaming with people. It was the kind of busy that suggests the pastry shop had somehow discovered the secret to eternal happiness and was now doling it out in convenient, deep-fried portions.
Inside, things had gone feral. People were buying fritte by the dozen, clutching bags of them, as if hoarding provisions for an impending siege. The kitchen, however, appeared to have transcended the normal constraints of time and space, sending out fresh supplies as fast as the crowd could consume them.
Now, I am a man of reason. A man of restraint. A man who, when faced with an unstoppable tide of fried sugar-coated joy, made the prudent decision to order only three. This, I told myself, was an act of discipline. And then I took the first bite.
omigod! The fritte were still warm, golden, and inviting as an old friend. One was filled with zabaglione cream, another with apple, and the third, well, the third was plain and I must admit, I’m sick with regret, because among the offerings, there existed a fritte filled with cannoli cream and chocolate chips, and I had, in a moment of profound misjudgment, overlooked it. It is indeed a cruel, cruel world.
This, I realized, was a dangerous place for a man like me. A man whose willpower was already hanging by a thread, and that thread was now being actively gnawed upon by the demon of regret. Fortunately, my better half was there to intervene, employing the time-honored strategy of grabbing me by the arm and dragging me away before I did something drastic, like order another six dozen.
And so I left Venice without surrendering to a second round of fritte. I suppose, technically, that means I won. And yet, I can’t help but feel that somewhere, in the tally book of the universe, a little mark was made under the column labeled Missed Opportunities.
best,
