Hopelessly lost in Modena, walking in circles and shivering in the rain, I was five minutes away from taking the train back to the comforts of my Bologna hotel room and completely giving up on the idea of lunch that day. I wasn’t suffering from hunger by any means. My vacation activities are pretty much single-mindedly food-centered -- I easily could (and probably should) nix one meal. Oh, but I’d come so far! I’d made this reservation for Hosteria Giusti four months ahead, by reading homemade, semi-phonetic Italian cue cards, no less. Then again, I was almost late, and my cold, tired body began to trump my will for even one more amazing gastronomic experience. Imagine my relief four minutes later to spot Salumeria Giusti.
A man was rolling down the salumeria’s metal door for the afternoon siesta as I hurried across the street to inquire about an hosteria with the same name. He shook his head; said I needed a reservation. I assured him of mine. He spoke to a woman inside the dark shop, who then asked my name. Don’t know how she knew it off the top of her head, but she did. The man motioned for me to quickly duck through the partially rolled-down door and clicked it shut behind us.