For the past two weeks, we have been in Italy, making stops in Rome, Monopoli, Lecce and Bologna. Today we are on our way to Vienna. We’ve never been to the State Opera House, and friend Christina Waters said it’s not to be missed. So, we grabbed a pair of tickets to see “Carmen.”

I’ve seen the opera many times, but never in the opera house where Mozart himself was the inaugural act. Christina recommended the salmon sandwiches and Champagne during intermission. Can’t wait!

While in Rome, we stayed in my favorite neighborhood, San Pietro, which can rival the Trastevere area for decent restaurants. Mostly, we’ve stuck with one meal a day. The day’s heat compelled us to “do what the Romans do” and stay indoors during the day and venture out around sunset, when it was cooler. However, “cooler” is relative. It was still in the high 80s.

Our favorite little trattoria, Piacere Molise, was closed for vacation, alas. So, on our first night, we dined at a place called Claps. (I think they intended it to be “Applause.”) Gary is a seafood freak, so his go-to meal is often pasta with a mixture of local shellfish. Whether it’s with pasta or risotto, he would receive a plate loaded with shrimp, clams, crayfish, calamari and octopus.

No part of Italy is more than about two hours from the sea, so fish and other seafood dishes are common and well prepared. In fact, we had dinner at Posta Antica, a cavern-like restaurant in Monopoli, where he ordered the roasted cod. It arrived as a whole fish with head and tail still attached. The waiter expertly skinned and boned it, placing the juicy pieces on Gary’s plate. He swears it was the best fish he’d ever had.

We were in Monopoli, just south of Bari, to find the home where my paternal grandfather was born. It’s in the historic center, a tiny row house, centuries old, but now updated with new stucco and vinyl-clad windows and doors. I rang the bell, but nobody answered. Helene Tick suggested that I send a letter and a couple of Santa Cruz postcards to whomever is living there now. Wonderful idea! Maybe they’ll send photos of the interior.Then to visit my cousins

After a few days in Monopoli, which much resembles Santa Cruz as a beachfront resort, we went further south to visit my cousin Vincenzo and his family in the Lecce area. Vincenzo’s grandmother and my grandmother were devoted sisters. Taking the connection to succeeding generations has been rewarding. Even my daughter, my sister, and my niece have visited.

Vincenzo’s wife Anna Oriana prepared a terrific lunch on our last day, which was a gut-busting feast of olives, crusty bread with local olive oil, little knots of bread made with red wine, lasagna, roasted beef, diced eggplant, fava beans, gelato, and a crostata made with loquat fruit, which Italians call nespolo. We topped it off with espresso and Vincenzo’s homemade liqueur from fermented loquat seeds. It tasted very much like amaretto. I’ll have to find some loquats and try making it myself!

Another treat invented in Apulia is pasticiotto. These cream-filled pastry delights are imitated in the U.S., but they don’t even come close! They’re sort of like hand pies shaped like Twinkies. The pastry crust is tender and sweet, with a luscious pastry cream filling. In the U.S., they have a dry pie crust and a dense filling. Sorry, but you have to visit Italy to get the real thing!

Ever hear of American pizza?

One evening, after we all enjoyed the bathtub-warm waters of the Ionian Sea, we stopped at a beachfront pizza restaurant. Literally, there were about 50 types of pizza! Gary understood a few words on the menu, so he chose a pizza with sausage and mushrooms. Unfortunately, he did not know that patatine was “fried potato.”

His pizza arrived piled high with french fries. “We call that an American pizza,” my cousin Maria Elena explained. I told her it was not a pizza that anyone has ever seen in America. Once he removed the potatoes, which were cold and soggy, Gary said the rest of the pizza was just fine.

During our trip, we found several other dishes that we’d never seen before. We especially loved the ravioli filled with melted burrata cheese. Why isn’t this pillowy bit of Heaven available in the U.S.? A light sauce of simmered grape tomatoes put a golden halo on the dish. It tasted like my grandmother’s cooking.

We did a double take when we saw octopus balls on another menu. But it turned out to be ground octopus meat shaped into balls, breaded, and deep fried. We skipped the “pieces of horse meat” simmered in tomato sauce.

Another creative appetizer consisted of anchovies with spreadable burrata served on thin, crispy slices of Pugliese bread. And speaking of the Pugliese bread (pronounced “pool-YAY-zay”), which is traditional in the Puglia region, it’s rustic and crusty, often studded with sunflower seeds. Sliced thin and toasted, it makes a great base for savory spreads and cheeses.

In Monopoli, we had the best eggplant Parmigiana that I’ve ever tasted! The portions were topped with a good layer of panko breadcrumbs, baked, and drizzled with bechamel, basil pesto, and tomato sauce. One bite of that crunchy crust, and I thought the angels were going to sing to me.

Another favorite dish was tagliatelle pasta with basil pesto and strips of fried capocollo — a spicy pork deli meat. (New York Italians call it “gabagool.”) The crispy meat was a nice counterpoint to the pasta.

By the way, dining in Southern Italy is quite affordable compared with the prices at home. At nice restaurants, we could get two full dinners — appetizers, local bread and olive oil, entrees, bottled water, and 2-3 adult beverages — for the equivalent of about $70.

Bologna is a food city

We drove eight hours north to Bologna because we heard that the food is fabulous — especially the tortellini. Why not? It was invented here. For our first lunch in town, we ordered a salad of red cabbage, shaved fennel, green apples, grapefruit and walnuts. Meh. It hardly had any flavor, and the cabbage wasn’t even cut to bite-size pieces. Rather, it was long shreds that were difficult to manage.

Our tortellini with Parmesan cream was outstanding, though. We wanted to lick the dish, but alas, no bread was included with our meal. In Italy, it’s common to use a bit of bread to make a figure-eight in the dish as you sop up the sauce. The design looks much like the soles of baby shoes, so it’s called fare la scarpetta — making little shoes. Sopping the sauce isn’t often done in the U.S., but it’s expected in Italy. Why waste perfectly good sauce?

One evening, we dined at a small restaurant on the main piazza and enjoyed lasagna verdi, light green noodles with ground meat, cheese and tomato sauce. Good, but not amazing.

Gary had what was described as a beef cutlet. It turned out to be a T-bone steak wrapped in prosciutto and dredged in breadcrumbs and grated cheese before being pan fried. “I guess this is the Italian version of chicken-fried steak,” he mused.

The olive oils in the south were killer quality — peppery, green, young and swoon worthy. Up in Bologna, we found the oils to have much less flavor. But then, the south is the main production area for olive oil, so that could explain it.

However, because Bologna is smack dab next to Modena, the balsamic vinegars were primo quality.

And gelato. That’s become our daily indulgence in this heat. So, why come to Europe in the summer? Because with Gary’s job (executive director of the symphony), he can travel only outside of concert season. Which means July and August. But we’ll take what we can get.

What? No recipe?

My recipes will return when I’m back home. Right now, it’s all about the dining while we’re in Europe.