By nine o'clock it's already quite warm and the ladies of the Torino city gardening services are out mowing and strimming the grass in the park.After a quick nip of coffee and a marmalade filled croissant I am braving the rush hour crowds on the bus.
I am on the route to the university , and the bus driver plays that well known Italian game of "get as many people on a bus and se how long it is before a) a fight breaks out b) someone faints c) an English girl posts a blog about it. In todays case he scores a hattrick and all three help the journey pass with the kind of adrenaline rush that coffee can't replicate. All we need now is for Denni Hopper to get on and "we've got a movie"
At my stop , courage fails me , there are 10 feet and 30 students in betweeen me and the pavement , so I just stay on until the crush thins and walk back.I am at the " Mole" a kind of St Pauls with a huge spire on the top. It was initially built as a synagogue but when the money ran out the architect persuaded the city to come up with the cash and make the building a tribute to the King. The spire is a pretty tricky feat of engineering and had a few false starts , not that I know anything about engineering but I read that in the information leaflet , but you knew that didn't you. The main building houses The National Museum of Cinema , which is right up my street . First though I get to fulfill a Charlie Bucket fantasy and ride the great glass elevator that travels up the middle of the building through the spire to the top. The spire section , which makes the building about about 157 metres high is only two metres wide and the walls are only 12 cm thick , and did I mention that the elevator is glass , and that it goes through the middle of the building with no walls around it just hanging from cables until it reaches the height of a 15th floor and disappears into the spire . Those of you warrior women like me who are no friend of heights will be sharing my slightly sweaty palmed moment as I waited in the queue .
I was momentarily distracted from this dampness and concentrated on gnashing my teeeth instead as the two Americans in the queue in front of me did not even attempt to speak any Italian and kept asking unecessary and complicated questions about getting a reduced price ticket to the cashier in loud English.
Sooooooo as I was saying ..... the lift (ascensore) well it just appears to float or fly, gliding upwards into the vast space of the building as it opens up around you , it is amazing , a bit like that scene in The English Patient where Juliette Binoche is pulled up on a rope to look at the frescoes by torchlight. Ok so I'm overdoing it , but really it was pretty magical , levitating in the centre of a beautiful cathedral like space with a glided dome . I'd like to do it again. At the top there is a reassuringly sturdy balustrade and I took some great pictures of the mountains in the distance , which I will post on this site when I get back . I do get to do it again as it is the only way back down . Having done that bit I then go into the cinema museum . This is kind of divided into two sections , the normal and the wholly bizzarre . The first section is all about the history of how the moving image came to be the film that we know now. It's pretty hard to find your way out of this section and I went round it about three times and was whipping myself up into my second mental health crisis of the day when I did something I don't usually do ..... I asked someone who worked there the way. Miraculously it worked and they swept a red velvet curtain aside for me and I made it out .
Feeling in need of a bit of "a sit down" by now I headed for the cafe . Now my names not Prince Harry and so it is a long time since I stumbled out of or into a night club , but this cafe looked like one . A kind of techno meets Bedouin tent . I went in one of those in Morocco .The room was darkly lit. The tables made of thick glass that was lit , inside and underneath. Little booths with clear plastic chairs dipped in pink were shrouded in posh mosquito netting. In the centre was a long table with 20 chairs down either side. Each place setting had an interactive screen set into it and buttons to press with a menu telling you about the museum. The colour of the table kept changing from Easter chick mellow yellow to pink then moody mauve and deep azzuro , blue . I was in the coolest cafe I have ever been iin and just as I was about to get a coffee and try to look cool a group of 20 Italian schoolchildren came in. They bange their bags on the tble and sat down either side of me . I have never felt so invisible , in fact I quite liked it as the pulled silver foil packages containing white bread with the crusts of proscuitto sandwiches , and hard round "bocconino" rolls with mozarella and formaggio. They all chatted in Italiano rapido to each other as their teachers patrolled up and down exuding more formidability than I ever managed to muster in a dining room with a hundred adult male prisoners. I munch a cockle shaped ricotta cream filled lovely that has the crunchy pastry wrapped around it making pretty layers and have the usual tiny cup of hard hitting juic that fuels Italia.
On to the second part of the museum . As I enter I wonder if the crazy cafe lights have had a hallucinogenic effect on me as looking around me I feel like Alice following the white rabbit down the hole. A surreal mix of classic architecture and hammer house of horror is laid out before me . A 20 foot high statue of an Egyptian God somehow doesn't seem abnormal next to a 12 foot high open fridge complete with huge "eat me" milk and groceries. A replica up 1950's American sitting room and a crazy scientists laboratory are just some of the suprising delights that make this the most fun museum I've ever been in. Two huge cinema screens hang on the wall playing snippets from golden oldies and a fleet of sunbed style red velvet covered seats are spaced out in front of them for you to recline on , and reclining is my signature position . They are the most comfortable cinema seats ever with speakers in the headrest . I don't know where they sell them or how much they cost but I want one .
Tuesday, 17 March 2009
Choco pass tour
Fabbrici Italiano Automobili TorinoSo, down to the important business of Torino . Chocolate . I have bought a "choco pass" is it me or does this sound wonderful ?? it reminds me of when I got my first credit card and I felt that Etam was my oyster .The choco pass is a booklet with vouchers for free chocolate !!!! yes I have died and gone to heaven. On the back page of it is a kind of treasure map with numbers marking the spot of where the sugary brown dubloons are located . So like a woman possessed , or one who forgets she has a room full of clothes that no longer fit her, I am off on a mission. Like the Holy grail , choco pass seems to contain magic powers that curiously cure me of my map dyselxia . Drooling like a a bloodhound about to do what it was born to do I am hot on the trail of every chocolate shop in town. I enter the first one with a certain amount of English reserve and embarassment at asking for something for nothing . I delve into my bag and bring out the choco pass booklet and say in my Italiano stupido "Io ha una piccolo choco pass" . The woman who works surrounded by chocolate but has hip bones you could slice ham on , looks at me with a a derisory "oh god not another cheapskate" but as the keeper of the gateway to chocolate she knows what to do and reaches behind her for a little clear cellophane bag of freebies. With a perfectly manicured hand she reaches for my booklet and tears out the voucher. Outside I do not hesitate to sample what I have bagged and it goes down a treat . From here on in I am hooked , first blood has been drawn and I am no longer the new kid on the choco pass block . After only a cursory glance at the map the directions are firmly fixed in my mind with photographic accuracy and with sugar rush superpower strength I push my way through crowds to my next destination . Metres from the next shop I flick to the right page in the booklet and in one fluid motion without slowing up I rip out the voucher with my bare teeth . I enter the shop at a gallop , choco pass held aloft like the olympic torch, "choco pass , choco pass " I shout , in my best Godfatheresque accent. I am at the counter and the trade is made . Success and onto the next one.After all this excitement I stop for a slice of mushroom pizza and then make my way past the Egyptian museum . It is a lovely three story terra cotta brick coloured building. My couch surfing host Sergio is a big fan of this and every night whilst he tears creammy mozarella onto a plate for me , asks if I have been to it yet. I turn my back to hide the hundred weight of empty gold foil wrappers I empty from my bag into his kitchen bin and say I haven't had time yet.Am I the only person that didn't know that the word FIAT stands for
Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino ? Anway it does , which means that Torino is the home to the Fiat factory . This is usually more the kind of detail that would interest The Beard and have me yawning , but is actually interesting to little me for two reasons . One , it is no longer a car factory but a fabulous shopping centre !!!! say no more , but actually I will say more as I said there are two reasons , the second one being that it was here they filmed part of " The Italian Job" the original one where they "only meant to blow the bloody doors off " . I get the bus to what is now called "The Lingotto " building . I am day dreaming about being cast as an extra in the next version of this film and so miss the stop ,.. by several ,.. miles. Because of a particularly long section of one way system and because I am basically incompetent I spend the next hour getting on and off buses going in various directions . Eventually I arrive at The Lingotto and enter at the south side. It is a pretty unremarkable shopping centre , until I get to the other end and "the north ramp" this is a corkscrew curl of road winding its way up to the 8th floor. Wide enough for 2 minis or puntos or pands side by side, it is of course now pedestrianised although no one else was on it and most people use the lift to pass between floors . I walk up to the top , imagining the roar of car engines , stacks of stolen cash in my pockets and angry carabinieri on my tail . It's a bit of an anti climax to find at the top it is all closed off and I can't see the track . I feel a bit cheated and go in search of ice cream . I get side tracked by a sign for entry to the private collection of the Agnelli family which I read somewhere is housed on top of the building. I ride in an elevator that unlike the others I tried takes me up to the track and ignoring the signs that say access to " La pista e vietato " I walk round it . No one stops me although there are a few people around. It's not my fault I'm a helplessly lost tourist who doesn't speak Italian . It is pretty cool with big banking ramps at either end . Many years ago I owned an ancient dark blue Fiat Panda and it is sweet to think of it starting life racing it's little heart out round here , the sun on it's bonnet and cypress tress in it's rear view mirror.Next I head over to a new venue called "Eataly" it is the kind of appallingly cheesey name you expect to find on a pizza restaurant in Florida , but this is a seriously serious food hall . Inside are the wealthy of Torino , it is like Harrods foodhall , but all the food is grown on the hills around us not shipped here , ..from here . When I look a the prices I wonder if I am mistaken and it was flown here by supersonic jet. A kilogramme of dried pasta is nearly 10 euros ! the price of the fresh pasta would make you faint. I spy a tin of tomatoes labelled "miracoli de Gennaro" at nearly 3 euros a tin. Even if it the miracle was that it made you live forever you couldn't afford to feed yourself for that long at that price.There is a tiny tin of "Octopus, potatoes and peas" at 7 euros. It's fun looking though , it's like an indoor market and no doubt everything is top quality. My limited baggage weight prevents me from taking a tin of tomatoes to try but I do have lunch here. There are wooden bars with stools to sit on all along the walls , it is divided into sections depending on what you want to eat . There is Pasta , formaggio , contorni , and le verdure , which is my my spot . Courtesy of the man next to me who has in front of him the loveliest looking plate of food I've ever seen , I also get lasagne al pesto . Baskets of delicious bread and unlimited bottles of water get replaced on the bar as they empty . It is delicious and a very friendly place to eat.If you are serious about "slow food" and want to sample the best of what Italy has to offer it is a trip worth making . I am going back on Saturday for my last Italian supper before I head back to England . I am calling it "investment eating"
Fabbrica Italiana Automobili Torino ? Anway it does , which means that Torino is the home to the Fiat factory . This is usually more the kind of detail that would interest The Beard and have me yawning , but is actually interesting to little me for two reasons . One , it is no longer a car factory but a fabulous shopping centre !!!! say no more , but actually I will say more as I said there are two reasons , the second one being that it was here they filmed part of " The Italian Job" the original one where they "only meant to blow the bloody doors off " . I get the bus to what is now called "The Lingotto " building . I am day dreaming about being cast as an extra in the next version of this film and so miss the stop ,.. by several ,.. miles. Because of a particularly long section of one way system and because I am basically incompetent I spend the next hour getting on and off buses going in various directions . Eventually I arrive at The Lingotto and enter at the south side. It is a pretty unremarkable shopping centre , until I get to the other end and "the north ramp" this is a corkscrew curl of road winding its way up to the 8th floor. Wide enough for 2 minis or puntos or pands side by side, it is of course now pedestrianised although no one else was on it and most people use the lift to pass between floors . I walk up to the top , imagining the roar of car engines , stacks of stolen cash in my pockets and angry carabinieri on my tail . It's a bit of an anti climax to find at the top it is all closed off and I can't see the track . I feel a bit cheated and go in search of ice cream . I get side tracked by a sign for entry to the private collection of the Agnelli family which I read somewhere is housed on top of the building. I ride in an elevator that unlike the others I tried takes me up to the track and ignoring the signs that say access to " La pista e vietato " I walk round it . No one stops me although there are a few people around. It's not my fault I'm a helplessly lost tourist who doesn't speak Italian . It is pretty cool with big banking ramps at either end . Many years ago I owned an ancient dark blue Fiat Panda and it is sweet to think of it starting life racing it's little heart out round here , the sun on it's bonnet and cypress tress in it's rear view mirror.Next I head over to a new venue called "Eataly" it is the kind of appallingly cheesey name you expect to find on a pizza restaurant in Florida , but this is a seriously serious food hall . Inside are the wealthy of Torino , it is like Harrods foodhall , but all the food is grown on the hills around us not shipped here , ..from here . When I look a the prices I wonder if I am mistaken and it was flown here by supersonic jet. A kilogramme of dried pasta is nearly 10 euros ! the price of the fresh pasta would make you faint. I spy a tin of tomatoes labelled "miracoli de Gennaro" at nearly 3 euros a tin. Even if it the miracle was that it made you live forever you couldn't afford to feed yourself for that long at that price.There is a tiny tin of "Octopus, potatoes and peas" at 7 euros. It's fun looking though , it's like an indoor market and no doubt everything is top quality. My limited baggage weight prevents me from taking a tin of tomatoes to try but I do have lunch here. There are wooden bars with stools to sit on all along the walls , it is divided into sections depending on what you want to eat . There is Pasta , formaggio , contorni , and le verdure , which is my my spot . Courtesy of the man next to me who has in front of him the loveliest looking plate of food I've ever seen , I also get lasagne al pesto . Baskets of delicious bread and unlimited bottles of water get replaced on the bar as they empty . It is delicious and a very friendly place to eat.If you are serious about "slow food" and want to sample the best of what Italy has to offer it is a trip worth making . I am going back on Saturday for my last Italian supper before I head back to England . I am calling it "investment eating"
CiocolatTO close but no cigar
If there is anything better than sitting in an Italian piazza under a blue sky with the sun on your face then I have yet to find it , ..well actually I think I have . You may be forgiven for thinking I have already posted a blog under the title above , cos I did , but I felt I couldn't really do justice to a ten day chocolate festival in one day sooooo I went back again ,... it's free you know . The TO bit of cioccolaTO is for Torino .To my mind the words chcolate and festival fit together in one phrase sounds sublime and it proves it is a match made in heaven as it has been going for over 7 years , which is longer than many marriages these days. Today the piazza is a lot less crowded and I get to have a proper look round .There are dozens of stands and a "laborotorio di cioccolato" where you can see the process of it coming into being . I head for stuff that was made earlier .I start simple on a stall where little pieces of chocolate with nuts has been cut up temptingly for me to try . "permesso ?" I ask fingers poised inches from the plate "prego" she replies .I get the green light . The hazlenuts are described as "famous piedmont" hazlenuts" I don't know what they did to be famous , act racially offensively on TV or win a phone in vote for singing or something, but they taste good. I buy a little bag of these to take home .The next stop is for a lovely creamy looking chocolate that is formed into a shape very typical in Torino and etched lovingly on my memory from my choco pass tour . It's like a kind of round ended toblerone shape. The flavour is called Gianduja . I am told , if I understood correctly , that it's not praline but has cream of nuts and cream of cacoa in it . It is very good . I try one on a stick , about the size of a tablespoon dipped in a few nuts and little white chocolate . This is chocolate I want in my life , it is luxurious cream nutty chocolatey yumminess .I stop to look at a stall selling chocolate kebab. A two foot long kebab shaped chunk of chocolate layered , drark , milk and white is turning round on a spit. I watchthe vendor slice some off onto a slice of sponge , she squirts cream all over it and hands it to the waiting teenage boy who will no doubt eat it and then be hungry again five minutes later. I move from solid chocolate onto liquid . Bicerin is a coffee , chocolate and cream drink served in the cafes here and if you are looking for a little "fix me up" to help your Saturday morning shopping trip go with a bang , this is your boy.. You can buy the alcoholic base for this drink and just drink it straight . I sample a couple of different sorts .They are very alcoholic , well especially at 11 am and I can imagine it going down very well after a good meal or a night out shared with some of my girlfriends . Don't get your hopes up though my amigos as due to my cheapskate travel arrangements I only have carry on baggage and the tyranny of a limit on liquids still has it's grip . So in order to make the most of it I move on to try another free sample at the next stall instead . Round the corner I spy a familiar green friend at the next place . Absinthe and I have a turbulent relationship , can't live with and can't live without it . Last September when I was in Barcelona I had to wrestle with the temptation of going to the Absinthe bar , but I did not trust myself alone in the big city with no one but the green fairy for company . I ask at this stall if they are selling absinthe . She says not but they have some sweets that are the flavour of absinthe. It is a nice idea but not the real thing and a bit of a let down . She obviously susses me as a bit of a wrong un , must have been the smell of strong liquour on my breath before lunchtime . She looks cautiously around her and then pulls from under the counter a dark coloured package . This , she says is chocolate with real absinthe inside it in liquid form . Oh my... all my dreams have come true , I can't help it , my eyes go wide and round with delight , I feel a throaty chuckle rise up in my throat that would do any pantomime witch proud . Absinthe and chocolate , sounds to me like taking the road to hell with a smile on your face and absolutely no regrets about never being able to come back. I blow my meagre budget and buy several packs .The sun glints on some gold foil packages that are an interesting shape and I just have to pick one up and fondle it a bit . Those of us born in the not so enlightened 60 s will remember the joy at xmas of finding a "smoking set" in your stocking . Unfortunately due to something about cancer , death and setting children a good example you can no longer buy these in the UK . Here in continental Europe such sensibility holds no truck and you can suck on a whopping big chocolate cigar until your teeth fall out.I feel that I have not quite finished with the whole liquid chocolate , alcohol combo and shell out a euro for a little cup make from dark chocolate filled with yet more chocolate liquer. There are three taste choices mixed into the potion , vanilla, milk chocolate or pepperoncino ,which I am advised is pretty spicey . Advise !! , ha who needs it , fill her up my good woman and don't spare the spiciness , I say . Yowser ! , it really did pack a punch, that hit the back of my throat running and didn't leave until a couple of hours later . I am just beginning to feel that I really have over reached my chocolate fetish limit and gone past it by a significant margin , when the world takes on a rosey hue . I see in front of me a sight that makes me wonder if a law has been passed that made me Princess of all the world and all my choclate fantasies come true . A huge pile of crunchy white meringues the size of doughnuts is piled up next to a stainless steel bucket that has steam coming off the top if it . A gorgeous chocolatey smell emanates into the air and wafts visibly in my direction like the Mother ship calling me home . I can hardly unzip my purse as my fingers are trembling from excitement and the affect of too much sugar . I try not to salivate too obviously as the assistant snaps on plastic gloves before picking up a meringue. As she held it poised above the basin I swear a white dove flew overhead and I heard angel song in the air from afar as she dunked it in the molten chocolate. She puts it on a napkin that is imediately soaked in chocolate and hands it to me . I ask her how I'm supposed to eat it and she just shrugs her shoulders with a slight smile , as if to say "something tells me lady , you will manage " Grabbing all the napkins I can carry I finally step back a little from the chocolate and sit on a bench in what I think is a quiet spot as I am a firm believer that some things should be done in private . I contort myself into a sitting position that leaves as much as my body and clothes as far away from my mouth as I can ,except for my left hand and go in for the kill . The second after I have filled my mouth to the brim with a concotion of meringue and chocolate that clamps my teeth impossibly stuck together and leaves a thick slick of chocolate on my top lip that would have the judging panel of a Groucho Marx lookalike competition handing me the winning trophy to rapurous applause ... a man in a sharp suit wearing a little too much foundation and eyeliner for my taste jumps out from behind a column and thrusts a microphone at me . Behind him I see another guy balancing a camera , and not an olympus trip , on his shoulder . Being filmed with chocolate smeared from eyebrow to chin is not how I would have wished to make my debut on Italian National television , but chocolate found a way.
If there is anything better than sitting in an Italian piazza under a blue sky with the sun on your face then I have yet to find it , ..well actually I think I have . You may be forgiven for thinking I have already posted a blog under the title above , cos I did , but I felt I couldn't really do justice to a ten day chocolate festival in one day sooooo I went back again ,... it's free you know . The TO bit of cioccolaTO is for Torino .To my mind the words chcolate and festival fit together in one phrase sounds sublime and it proves it is a match made in heaven as it has been going for over 7 years , which is longer than many marriages these days. Today the piazza is a lot less crowded and I get to have a proper look round .There are dozens of stands and a "laborotorio di cioccolato" where you can see the process of it coming into being . I head for stuff that was made earlier .I start simple on a stall where little pieces of chocolate with nuts has been cut up temptingly for me to try . "permesso ?" I ask fingers poised inches from the plate "prego" she replies .I get the green light . The hazlenuts are described as "famous piedmont" hazlenuts" I don't know what they did to be famous , act racially offensively on TV or win a phone in vote for singing or something, but they taste good. I buy a little bag of these to take home .The next stop is for a lovely creamy looking chocolate that is formed into a shape very typical in Torino and etched lovingly on my memory from my choco pass tour . It's like a kind of round ended toblerone shape. The flavour is called Gianduja . I am told , if I understood correctly , that it's not praline but has cream of nuts and cream of cacoa in it . It is very good . I try one on a stick , about the size of a tablespoon dipped in a few nuts and little white chocolate . This is chocolate I want in my life , it is luxurious cream nutty chocolatey yumminess .I stop to look at a stall selling chocolate kebab. A two foot long kebab shaped chunk of chocolate layered , drark , milk and white is turning round on a spit. I watchthe vendor slice some off onto a slice of sponge , she squirts cream all over it and hands it to the waiting teenage boy who will no doubt eat it and then be hungry again five minutes later. I move from solid chocolate onto liquid . Bicerin is a coffee , chocolate and cream drink served in the cafes here and if you are looking for a little "fix me up" to help your Saturday morning shopping trip go with a bang , this is your boy.. You can buy the alcoholic base for this drink and just drink it straight . I sample a couple of different sorts .They are very alcoholic , well especially at 11 am and I can imagine it going down very well after a good meal or a night out shared with some of my girlfriends . Don't get your hopes up though my amigos as due to my cheapskate travel arrangements I only have carry on baggage and the tyranny of a limit on liquids still has it's grip . So in order to make the most of it I move on to try another free sample at the next stall instead . Round the corner I spy a familiar green friend at the next place . Absinthe and I have a turbulent relationship , can't live with and can't live without it . Last September when I was in Barcelona I had to wrestle with the temptation of going to the Absinthe bar , but I did not trust myself alone in the big city with no one but the green fairy for company . I ask at this stall if they are selling absinthe . She says not but they have some sweets that are the flavour of absinthe. It is a nice idea but not the real thing and a bit of a let down . She obviously susses me as a bit of a wrong un , must have been the smell of strong liquour on my breath before lunchtime . She looks cautiously around her and then pulls from under the counter a dark coloured package . This , she says is chocolate with real absinthe inside it in liquid form . Oh my... all my dreams have come true , I can't help it , my eyes go wide and round with delight , I feel a throaty chuckle rise up in my throat that would do any pantomime witch proud . Absinthe and chocolate , sounds to me like taking the road to hell with a smile on your face and absolutely no regrets about never being able to come back. I blow my meagre budget and buy several packs .The sun glints on some gold foil packages that are an interesting shape and I just have to pick one up and fondle it a bit . Those of us born in the not so enlightened 60 s will remember the joy at xmas of finding a "smoking set" in your stocking . Unfortunately due to something about cancer , death and setting children a good example you can no longer buy these in the UK . Here in continental Europe such sensibility holds no truck and you can suck on a whopping big chocolate cigar until your teeth fall out.I feel that I have not quite finished with the whole liquid chocolate , alcohol combo and shell out a euro for a little cup make from dark chocolate filled with yet more chocolate liquer. There are three taste choices mixed into the potion , vanilla, milk chocolate or pepperoncino ,which I am advised is pretty spicey . Advise !! , ha who needs it , fill her up my good woman and don't spare the spiciness , I say . Yowser ! , it really did pack a punch, that hit the back of my throat running and didn't leave until a couple of hours later . I am just beginning to feel that I really have over reached my chocolate fetish limit and gone past it by a significant margin , when the world takes on a rosey hue . I see in front of me a sight that makes me wonder if a law has been passed that made me Princess of all the world and all my choclate fantasies come true . A huge pile of crunchy white meringues the size of doughnuts is piled up next to a stainless steel bucket that has steam coming off the top if it . A gorgeous chocolatey smell emanates into the air and wafts visibly in my direction like the Mother ship calling me home . I can hardly unzip my purse as my fingers are trembling from excitement and the affect of too much sugar . I try not to salivate too obviously as the assistant snaps on plastic gloves before picking up a meringue. As she held it poised above the basin I swear a white dove flew overhead and I heard angel song in the air from afar as she dunked it in the molten chocolate. She puts it on a napkin that is imediately soaked in chocolate and hands it to me . I ask her how I'm supposed to eat it and she just shrugs her shoulders with a slight smile , as if to say "something tells me lady , you will manage " Grabbing all the napkins I can carry I finally step back a little from the chocolate and sit on a bench in what I think is a quiet spot as I am a firm believer that some things should be done in private . I contort myself into a sitting position that leaves as much as my body and clothes as far away from my mouth as I can ,except for my left hand and go in for the kill . The second after I have filled my mouth to the brim with a concotion of meringue and chocolate that clamps my teeth impossibly stuck together and leaves a thick slick of chocolate on my top lip that would have the judging panel of a Groucho Marx lookalike competition handing me the winning trophy to rapurous applause ... a man in a sharp suit wearing a little too much foundation and eyeliner for my taste jumps out from behind a column and thrusts a microphone at me . Behind him I see another guy balancing a camera , and not an olympus trip , on his shoulder . Being filmed with chocolate smeared from eyebrow to chin is not how I would have wished to make my debut on Italian National television , but chocolate found a way.
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