Someone is a lot braver than I am

The day we arrived in Palermo, we had lunch at a cute little place somewhere near where we were staying. I have no idea. I was constantly lost or tripping over cobblestones.

He ordered the pasta with amberjack (a fish) tartar. I had the caccia é pepe. No way I was eating raw fish. I’ve seen the documentaries about liver flukes—but in fact I am not worried about liver flukes. I have other, just as effective, ways of damaging my liver.

I know there are people who like raw fish. I am not one of them. And, taking a guess from the look on his face when he had his first bite, neither will he be in the future. Essentially he ate the pasta and pushed the fish off to the side not even attempting, as I would have, to scatter it randomly around the plate to fool the server into thinking an attempt at eating it had been made.

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