A salumeria in Bologna, hanging culatello, hams, coppa
I rubbed the brass pig snout in Florence hoping to rid myself of bad Florence karma (first time there, my girlfriend left me for another guy, second time there, Donna and I parted for what was planned to be a year’s separation; this time, only a crummy dish of carbonara happened to me, which wasn’t bad at all, so it seems the brass pig works).
Mandatory tourist shot: Expelling bad Florence karma
