Eat, Pray , Love..... Bologna with mia cara Pattie.

i start my writing with a quote from mi amore ,Gaetano:

"Con tutte le cose belle esistono al mondo, nessun uomo che tu stia cosi male per lui" , meaning, from all the beauty in the world, no men allow to hurt you and not appriciating the beauty of life.

True!!! I’ve been to every continent, explored countless beautiful cities, and lived on four different continents. If anything, I should be grateful and blessed—never letting anyone or any illness change who I am.

So last week, I did what I do best—I grabbed my first flight post-surgeries and headed straight to Bologna, Italy, to visit my ride-or-die bestie Patrizia and her hubby, Gaetano.

Now, don’t ask me where Bologna is—Google Maps exists for a reason. And I won’t tell you where to go either—because this is NOT a travel blog. My blog is about Eat, Pray, and Love. If you need travel tips, hit up Lonely Planet or Wikitravel.

And before you ask—hell yes, I’m still bitchie. I am, in fact, the bitch from hell, and damn good at it. My mom had me checked.

Cranky Mornings & Italian Breakfast Lessons

Look, if you had to take an unchristian flight in the freezing cold morning, you’d be cranky too. But the thought of seeing my travel sister in crime? That made me super-duper happy!

Landed in hot, humid Bologna, and the first thing Pattie says? "Let’s grab a bar brekky!" Now, as the certified alcoholic that I am, my first thought was: Hell yes! Let’s start the day with the nectar of hell .

Little did I know… she actually meant breakfast at a bakery.

So there I was, munching on a Danish with ricotta cheese and sipping on a Cappuccino. And ladies & gents—let me drop some important Italian wisdom on you:

❌ NEVER. EVER. ORDER. CAPPUCCINO. AFTER. 12 PM. ❌

If you do, all of Italy will come after you. Italians only drink Cappuccino in the morning. If you need milk in your coffee later, order a Latte Macchiato or just a Macchiato.

You’ve been warned.

After a good chit and chat, we wandered through the beautiful Saturday market, where I picked up some fresh herbs for the garden.

Then, we headed to Pattie’s hobby garden—and boy, I was in love! Those tomatoes? Absolute perfection—sweet, juicy, and ridiculously tasty. I couldn’t stop eating them. (Yes, I am a terrible farmer, don’t judge me! )

And before your dirty mind goes there—yes, they were just tomatoes. Don't even try it

Like true Italians, we had homemade fresh pasta for lunch. The sauce? Fresh tomatoes, prosciutto ham (I know, I know, I might get a yell from Pattie for not remembering the name of that tiny cold cut she used for the amatriciana, so let’s just pretend it was prosciutto...sorry, cara! , garlic, olive oil, and a splash of pasta water. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simple Italian recipe at its finest.

But the taste? Absolutely amazing.

We paired it with freshly baked bread straight from the stone oven and washed it down with some chilled Lambrusco and cheese. Oh, and of course, we wrapped it up with a perfect espresso and some mignon (those cute little cakes from the bakery)

I’ll admit it—I'm a cheese addict (and yes, I know it’s not the best combo with my lactose intolerance, but I can’t help it). When it comes to cheese, though, I only trust the good stuff from European countries. Sorry, Murica and Straya—I just can't risk it.

The cheese we had? Soft truffle cheese, goat cheese, and a peppery one—and it was amazing. Paired perfectly with some sparkling, sweet-sour Lambrusco (yes, I only drink European alcoholic beverages, call me a little snob if you must ).

By the end of that meal, my tummy was about to explode. I ate WAY too much. So, to digest and make a little room for the next round, we headed to the church. I needed to have a wee chit chat with the big man upstairs. I was asking for a sign—Lord knows I needed one. 🙏

Well, I got the sign instantly. Either He loves me too much or He’s just tired of my whining, but the sign came through loud and clear.

So, when Pattie asked if I wanted to go for an aperitivo, my answer was simple: “Yep, I’d love to…”

Well, I did my eat and pray, but as soon as my best friend Negroni started calling my name, the prayer was over! Of course, mia cara had her favorite aperitivo bar, and it was packed when we arrived!

Now, here's the deal: You only pay for drinks, and the bites are all included. And hell no, don’t ever tell a Dutchie that the bites are free to grab—because this Dutchie, whose tummy was just about to explode, couldn’t resist snacking on tiny bits of risotto, aubergine, mozzarella cheese, eggs, and, well, cheese. What else do you need?

And that Negroni? It tasted like God made it Himself.

But wait—just when you think I’m done, here comes the truth bomb: the damned Dutchie can’t resist a smoke either. To anyone thinking of preaching at me—FO. I’ve been to hell and back too many times, and I think I’ve earned a ciggie or two.

We wrapped up Saturday with a homemade chicken thigh, cooked with multiple herbs from the garden, paired with tomatoes cooked with breadcrumbs, and of course, fresh bread straight from the wood oven. And what’s a meal without some Lambrusco to wash it down?

We ended it all with a nice Grappa to settle things. Oh boy, after all that, I’m seriously ready for my bed.

Don’t wake me up tomorrow.

We spent our Sunday cooking lunch, kicking off with some Formula 1 (since it’s in Monza, you’re pretty much obligated to watch if you’re in Ferrari country, right? ). Then, of course, we wandered around the outlet shops—where else would you find Ephie? Nope, I didn’t plan on shopping, but those Timberland shoes were just too good and too cheap to pass up...

We then had the most amazing tagliatelle al ragu—NEVER say spaghetti Bolognese to an Italian, especially when you’re in Bologna. Spaghetti Bolognese doesn’t exist here, I repeat, it does not exist! The ragu was so simple—just meat, olive oil, and fresh tomatoes, and you ate it with a little fresh basil. Topped it all off with a drizzle of Parmigiano and Aceto Balsamico—oh boy, it was like dancing on clouds.

This time, I refused any alcohol (my tummy was still a bit sore from yesterday’s feast), but when Pattie asked if I wanted to go for an aperitivo, my answer was simple: YEEEESSSSS....

We went to bed early, as I wasn’t feeling my best. I had a couple of bad dreams, ones I thought I had already gotten over, but this time, they really upset me. I woke up in a moody mood, but Pattie made me a longo and some mignons before lunch, and just listened to me cry.

I really love Pattie and Gaetano, as they didn’t judge me, just held me with love and offered their shoulders for me to cry on. And then, Gaetano made me laugh when he said my “bad people alarm” didn’t work too well, which ended up breaking my heart and putting me in tears. Ohhh, I love my Sicilians, my caro...