It was a rainy morning in Modena as we sipped on our cappucinos at Mon Cafe and mentally prepared for the meal that we traveled across the ocean for. We pulled apart our cornetto and decided to kill some time at the local market before our 12:30.
As we meandered around the stalls, we daydreamed about what was to come. The crunchy part of the lasagna, the five ages of Parmigiano, the eel swimming up the Po river. All of the names and visuals of dishes that we'd seen on Chef's Table: S1 E1. We went back to our B&B practically dancing around the room. My silk dress slid down my body, Brandon's wool jacket hugged his broad shoulders. We looked in the mirror. Not bad. Not bad at all.