HUNGRY GERALD

A sunny Saturday meant a drive up the winding roads of the Bologna hills with the lofty Appennines etched in the distance. Bologna is unusual in that a five to ten minute drive takes you from the bustle of the city to the beautiful countryside, with its lovely views of deep valleys, gentle meadows and steep cliffs. Luncheon destination was the plain-spoken Trattoria Vizzano. The day was so beautiful that it was hard to remember that these hills were, literally, soaked in blood, the scene of fierce fighting between German forces and British and American troops during World War Two. Somber thoughts had no place in the trattoria, where HG and famille dove into crescentine, specialty of the house.

These are little puffy fried biscuits (similar to New Mexican sopapillas or American popovers) that diners split open and fill with squaquerone, a delightful fresh cheese, accompanied by salami, prosciutto and very good Italian head cheese. Home-made pickled vegetables are always served on the side. An unexpected treat. HG also manged to get down a robust bowl of home made, wonderfully chewy tagliatelle. Dessert was a traditional “torta di riso”, or rice pudding-like cake.

HG was sobered and moved by an after-lunch visit to the austere memorial on the cliff side at Sabbiuno, where some 100 brave anti-Fascist (mainly communist) partisan fighters were slaughtered by the Nazis. Lined up on the edge of a cliff, they were machine-gunned and their bodies tossed down into a ravine. Less than half were later identified. The names of the known fallen are engraved on individual rocks, a simple, eternal memorial. One rock marks the 47 unknown victims.

A Jewish custom seems to have been followed — visitors place pebbles on top of the graves to mark a visit. HG added a few. A curving concrete wall marks the site where the firing squad was lined up. Vintage machine guns are set into slots into this wall, aimed for eternity at the spot where the partisans took their last breath. It all made one muse about the very bloody and tortured history of Italy, a land so associated with the beauties of art, architecture and the sheer joy of living.