The only idiot I know who ever got food poisoning in Florence, Italy is ... well ... me. To the people of Florence, a modest suggestion -- cook your sausage. C'mon man. What the raw sausage incident meant in foodie terms is that, when I was finally feeling better and could safely leave the immediate proximity of my hotel room's toilet, I wasn't up for any big time food adventures or in the mood for another gigantic, tuscan seared Flintstones-type steak. I did luck out and find a great little local joint, with no menu, but a selection that varied daily. When I had lunch there, the soup of the day was supa de ceci -- just the essence of chick peas in a bowl and, I would point out, the best meal I had in Florence. Amazing stuff.
