By the next morning, the sun had returned, although there was a bit of a chill in the air. We began the day with more pastries at Pasticceria Penso: a slice of apple strudel and a “domino,” the latter being a bite-sized rectangle of cake layered with rich chocolate buttercream, covered with bittersweet ganache, and whimsically decorated with white frosting dots.
From Piazza Oberdan, we took the tram uphill to the town of Villa Opicina, marked by a monumental obelisk that was erected in 1830 to celebrate a new road between Austria and Trieste. The pedestrian path Via Napoleonica stretches westward about two miles from the obelisk to the village of Prosecco. Although we turned back before reaching Prosecco, we had plenty of opportunities to admire the stunning, panoramic view of the sea.
Returning to Opicina for lunch, we stopped at Ristorante Diana, one of several restaurants along the highway that specializes in cuisine from Trieste and the Carso. They were fully booked but agreed to serve us if we could eat our meal in the next 75 minutes. I ordered pasticcio di crespelle con carciofi e funghi (a lasagna of sorts, with layers of crêpes, artichokes, and mushrooms) and the capriolo in salmì (stewed venison). Mike had a plate of prosciutto di struzzo e cinghiale (cured ostrich and wild boar) and the stinco di vitello (braised veal shank). As a side dish, we shared a dish of carciofi gratinati (artichokes baked with a breadcrumb topping).
After lunch, our plan was to take bus #42 to the Grotta Gigante, but as happens so often when traveling, we just missed it. As we waited for the next bus to come along, we enjoyed some refreshing cones from the gelateria across the street (me: cioccolato, stracciatella, and yogurt; Mike: pistachio, panna cotta, and amarena).
When we finally arrived at Grotta Gigante—the world’s largest tourist cave at 351 feet high, 213 feet wide, and 918 feet long—we joined a dozen other people for a guided tour. Upon entering, a narrow tunnel opened into the enormous cavern, which is large enough to fit Saint Peter’s Basilica. The echo of dripping water filled the silence, and we were immediately struck by the chilly dampness. Five hundred steps descended past walls covered with curtains of stalactites in shades of white, orange, and brown. The cave’s stalagmites were tall and slender, with flat tops, the calcite concretions resembling stacks of dishes due to the height from which the water drips. What goes down must come back up again, and although the five-hundred-step return to the surface was quite strenuous, it provided a suitable excuse for my recent gastronomic indulgences!
Back in Trieste for dinner, we found a casual trattoria near the city’s old center, Trattoria La Piazzetta. I had goulasch served with potato gnocchi and a side of patate in tecia. This was the meal that clarified for me how those potatoes were prepared: slightly mashed but still chunky and cooked with beef broth, onions, and bits of pork. The goulasch obviously did not contain tomatoes and therefore perpetuated my lingering dilemma about that dish. Mike ordered seafood linguini and veal scallopini in white wine sauce—happily oblivious to the minutiae of cookbook research that was plaguing me on a daily basis.
