No more student discount tickets

Turning 27 tomorrow is really not something I'm stressing or worrying about. However, I did just discover that the special reduced museum entry price for students is only for people 26 and under, which made me feel old and cheap because it really annoyed me. Especially when the three girls I've been exploring the city with are all 23-25. They've started calling me nonna, which is funny, but certainly gets some weird looks from passersby.
Last night we had another group dinner with Fabio, a soon-to-depart NYU professor, Rome native, and incredibly acclaimed food writer. He's going to the New School to head up their program, and he is so fantastic I may want to go with him, or at the bare minimum, stand outside so I can frequently "run into" him. Hosteria Del Bricco, on the other side of the Ponte Vecchio, was fantastic, and home of the most amazing roast pork with herbs and ribollita. I cannot get enough of this bread soup. It's so simple - just broth, vegetables and this unsalted bread that is starting to get on my nerves. There was a tasting course of five different dips, one mushroom, one a roasted eggplant, one a spicy pepper jam, a chicken liver pate, and a pureed roasted garlic that I was tempted to eat with a spoon. At least they make up for the lack of salt in the bread by having such intensely flavored things that give it some life.
The pictures are of the zucchini flower farfalle, which contained two of my favorite things: pasta and zucchini flowers. I really do not understand why, in the states, they discard this delicate and beautiful part. It's such a shameful waste. The other is an incredibly well seasoned steak that we all fought over, under a bed of peppery arugula and juicy tomatoes.
Today was wonderful, as is any day that starts off with an artisanal chocolate tasting for breakfast. Dark chocolate, lemon peel and violet ganache might not be the breakfast of champions, but it was definitely a positive way to start the day. We all then got assigned a word then had to go and purchase the product from the Sant Ambrogio Market so we could have a picnic at Villa Ullivi. I had boar sausage, which was pretty easy to find, and the culture of a market like this is always amusing - the yelling, shouting, flirting. Old men with a wink and a smile give you "special discounts", handing you the precious paper parcels you've hunted for through the market. I also found 'ndjua. Enough said.
I can never get sick of looking at the colors, inhaling the produce, bartering and stumbling over Italian phrases and numbers as I stuff huge purple eggplants and crispy, bright fennel into my bag, realizing that in the dorms, we have no kitchen. Now I'm stuck with bags of veggies that I'm going to have to figure out what to do with. I'm sure the olive oil that I just pilfered from the cafeteria will play a starring role.
Tomorrow we have a wine tasting and then all day lectures. Then we are going back to the fantastic La Giostra for dinner - I'm ecstatic. Though I keep imagining if someone knocked on my door and offered me a cured meat and cheese platter, I would tell them to leave, I realize that I really, truly cannot stop eating such delicious food.
My roommate said she's going to have to teach me how to catch or do something athletic. Obesity may not sound so terrible in a perfect Italian accent, but it certainly wouldn't look so great.