Culinary School

It finally happened. I thought it would, but I was hoping I was going to be wrong. We were shocked, because everything about the Central Market was amazing. All signs seemed positive, as we happily plopped down at the little restaurant tucked in a corner, flanked by fresh butchers, vegetable vendors, heaping mounds of deeply colored dried fruits.
We had a bad meal.
The caponata was fine but oily, but Natanya's peppers actually caused her to ask if they were supposed to tasted carbonated. Fried eggplant was destroyed by a rubbery, thick layer of batter. The woman behind us had a disturbingly intense hacking cough that caused Pegah to actually get up and move. Unhappy, we pouted, left our plates, and immediately rectified the situation at the Apecius Culinary School.
Our class was split into two smaller groups, and our chef, Giuseppe, immediately set us to work chopping, rinsing and boiling. My onion mince was really impressive, and Chef, who is from a town by Reggio in Calabria, immediately recognized my background. He let me take charge on the saffron and white wine risotto, creamy and buttery with zucchini and their fresh blossoms sprinkled on top. He winked and handed me some scoops of gelato for his special "calabrian friend". Natanya and Jackie rolled out thin, yellow strips of fresh pasta - Chef was adamant about only using what was fresh and seasonal - and the pasta was formed into spinach, ricotta ravioli bathed in Pegah's tomato sauce. Chef admitted that my gram's sauce might be better (he was right, but it was still delicious), and we sat down to eat our feast, renewed.
After a pizza dinner with our guest speakers from earlier in the week, we made the mistake of following some other students to a club called "Central Park". Huge mistake. Our quality of life had been peaks and valleys all day, and this terrible place really ruined it. We quickly said our hellos and goodbyes, trying to leave after a half hour. Discovering the asinine policy of needing an "exit ticket", it took us about two hours to leave the clutches of the club and its almost comically rude door staff. It was like being on a hidden camera show. Having the next day as a free research day was much needed.
We toured the Uffizi in the morning where I made the embarrassing discovery of how little I know about Carvaggio. Lunch was a great surprise at Il Porcopino by the San Lorenzo market, with a fantastic house white, hearty ribollita, and a charming Albanian waiter. Dinner at Acqua al 2 was simple and overall pretty tasty - I'm hitting a proscuitto and mozzarella wall. I never thought it would be so difficult to find a salad. Or a plate of steamed vegetables. Anything green. My swordfish carpaccio was nice and thankfully light, but I'm spoiled after Scilla. I'm something of a pesce spada connasseur now, and it just wasn't the same. The best surprise was the discovery of a brewpub on Via Nazionale, that served 'ndjua, played Pearl Jam, and served seven "artiginale" beers brewed by a petite blonde woman. I was ecstatic. "Research" for my paper is, we all agreed, really fun. There are only two brewpubs in Firenze, this one having medaled several times in the Italian beer cup. I have to visit the second to do more "observational research" - I smiled at Natanya as we toasted our pints of Volpe and Honey Amber, salad or no salad - though we had a few rough patches, we all realized we are truly living la dolce vita.