Cow Time

A late dinner came in a far more modern package, at least for Florence.

We set off away from the city center down Via San Gallo, only to discover a lively street practically around the corner from the B & B.

After striking out at Bobo's (admittedly, it was almost 9 on a Friday night), we discovered a sleek little place called Florens.

Taking seats at the massive community table, we admired the clean lines of the building's interior, so different from the traditional trattorias we'd been frequenting.

Our intense little server brought us a bottle of Il Villino Chianti Classico as a bored looking couple from L.A. sat down across from us.

The menu was as current as the decor, so we got started with a vegetable flan with cheese sauce.

A warning at the bottom struck us as amusing, "Our dishes are exclusively express. We ask that you have patience for a few of them."

Luckily, we've got nothing but time.

The savory custard dotted with green had a creamy mouthfeel and less firmness than a sweet flan, but the subtlety of the flavors had us both swooning.

There was a bit of a wait for our risotto with seasonal vegetables (all that stirring), but the mound of risotto that arrived on the plate was well worth killing some time with wine.

Spinach and Gorgonzola made for a mouth-watering combination as each sticky forkful reached our mouths.

Across from us, the guy watched a TV near the bar while his wife chattered on inanely, only occasionally bothering to grunt or give her an "uh huh."

Ages? Early 30s probably. That's going to be a loooong relationship if he can tune her out while they're sharing a meal in Florence.

And speaking of, we'd decided it was time to try some of the Florentine beef we kept hearing about.

The beautifully bloody piece of meat was a singular pleasure in a week that has focused on pig, albeit amazingly well-crafted pig.

By the time we headed back out on to San Gallo, the transition from restaurant row to happening Friday night had occurred.

From a wide-open window we saw 20-somethings drinking, talking and laughing to loud music.

People were getting off scooters to go into bars and clubs.

House music pulsated from an unknown source.

How had it taken us so long to find someplace so near?

How can you know someone for twenty years before really getting to know them?

How the hell should I know?

It's Florence and all things are possible.