We hit our saturation point of Renaissance and Pre-Renaissance art in Venice so decided to hop a train to Ravenna to see the mosaics. Maybe it was the time of year (feb) but the city itself seemed a little gritty. Still the mosaics were incredible, in our opinion, a bucket list item for anyone visiting Italy and we managed to find two very good restaurants, both filled with locals:
Ca’ de Vèn
https://cadeven.it/menu/
Housed in a medieval space with vaulted ceilings and hearty comfort food, we chose this place for its deep wine list. Many of the tables are communal, we didn’t end up sitting elbow-to-elbow with anyone, but that might’ve been fun. Everyone around us looked happy with their food and wine.
Every table seemed to have a platter of fresh, hot piadina with local ham, and we followed suit. We indulged in this sort of starter in most of the cities we visited. Parma was, of course, excellent, but honestly, this may have been even better. Did I mention the piadina were fresh and hot and right out of the oven?
I’d read somewhere that the local cappelletti was a must-try. Here’s their delicious version:
We finished the meal with cookies dipped in a lovely glass of Vin Santo.
I hate to burden everyone with marring food experiences but feel compelled to relate a sad, sad part of our meal: While waiting for menus, we saw enormous platters of roast meat being delivered to nearby tables. I obviously had to order one, I was torn between the massive pork shank and the baked chicken and rabbit with potatoes, served sizzling on a hot stone. I decided on the pork knuckle but after I ordered, the server shook her head and delivered the phrase I’ve come to dread:
“Too much food."
I mean, she could barely speak a word of English but somehow, the one phrase she’d mastered was “too much food”.
“Really?”, I asked.
“Too much food" she said, this time pantomiming a rapidly expanding belly.
Of course my wife, who hadn’t uttered a single word of Italian while I struggled through the ordering process, chose this moment to brightly smile and say in perfectly accented Italian, “sì, sì, troppo cibo!” (that’s what she said according to google translate, I suppose it’s equally possible she said “don’t worry, I’ll text him another photo of Judith Beheading Holofernes in morning”) and that was that.
Naturally, just as our waiter dropped off dessert menus, a crispy, smoking pork knuckle the size of a cannonball appeared just two seats away at our communal table. I was tempted to ask my wife how to say "bring me one of those pork knuckles or I’m going to put a curse on your whole family” but truth be told, I was feeling a little full.
And It’s just possible, still dealing with pork fomo, i let my wife persuade me into ordering this warm cake with homemade pistachio ice cream.
The next night, we headed to what’s likely the best restaurant in the city: Antica Trattoria Al Gallo 1909.
The interior feels like the kind of place my Italian grandparents would love (yeah, I’m not Italian but picked up Italian grandparents when my father remarried), white tablecloths, dark wood, old photos, and a staff that makes you feel like just a little inferior if you haven’t been eating there for generations.
We started with the Cappelletti al Ragù di Carne.
The cappelletti were filled with a rich meat, served with just enough sauce to coat and let the pasta shine. What’s up with not being able to find dishes like this in the US? I mean, sure, we live in nyc, but this quality at this price? as my Italian grandfather was wont to say, fuhgettaboutit.
Next we decided to lighten up the meal with a little lasagna 
specifically, Lasagnette con Zucchine, Fiori di Zucca e Pinoli, a version that’s layered with zucchini and squash blossoms, topped with a creamy zucchini sauce and pine nuts. The flavor was delicate and herbaceous.
Not wanting to repeat the mistake of the previous night, I assertively ordered the Manzo con Olio e Pepe Verde, thinly sliced grilled beef served with green peppercorns and olive oil. The meat was perfectly cooked, tender and flavorful.
For dessert the torta di Ricotta con Crema allo Zabaione, moist cake served on a bed of zabaione cream, rich without being heavy. the kind of dessert that makes one reflect upon the terrible wrongs you committed in this and past lives to have never discovered the dish before. when the waiter brought a complimentary platter of Biscotti Meringati e Amarene, I may or may not have googled “how does an American immigrate to Italy”
So, the Basilica of San Vitale was completely empty when we visited, I suspect it gets crowded in tourist season, but don’t miss it. The photos below don’t provide a proper sense of scale…how could this have been done in the 6th century? The other sites were wonderful but IMO, this has to be seen.
Best,
