Saturday, March 6, 2010

Shake Your Pesto Maker

In an afternoon that should go down in the record books as evidence that Trofie is a most easy-going Wife, I suggested that Martello and I train further down the shore to Alassio in order to check out the Miss Muretto contest. Now it wasn’t the beauty pageant’s toned and leggy contestants that was the main draw (at least not for me). Trofie Wife was interested in seeing the much-touted pesto-making competition in which they would partake, a segment of the World Pesto Championships (and as such, I believed there would be some sampling involved). It was also an excuse to finally make it to Alassio, which is one of the more historically popular and luxurious tourist spots on the Rivieria Ponente.

Beyond its beaches and fine cuisine, Alassio is renowned for its painted, tiled wall (the above-noted “muretto,” from which the pageant draws its name) filled with remembrances of visitors and local achievements, including this one:
Always a favorite with the Europeans!

And this one, which Martello insisted I strike a pose by (perhaps to make up for his later close inspection of the candidates during the pesto making; Trofie Wife was barely able to strike an unselfconscious pose on her wedding day; it was even less possible on the main drag of Alassio in broad daylight, without the benefit of cosmetic enhancement).
Yes, that's Trofie Wife behind those shades. 

Pesto-making with a mortar and pestle as carried out by beautiful young things is perhaps one of the most suggestive events that a beauty pageant can ever sponsor--are you listening Donald Trump?? 

The contestants line up to get their instructions. 

On the job.

Il vincitore is crowned!

Delightfully, the judging seemed to be based on actual skill and the final outcome of said pesto, not the length of one’s shorts. Sadly, the public was not invited to sample neither the pesto nor the girls (well, I can’t totally vouch for what happened to the girls, but the pesto was off limits). After the show ended and Trofie Wife ceased being complicit in setting women back several decades, we strolled around centro and made our way to a beachfront bar, where we had a refreshing aperitivo, and Trofie Wife got in some ogling of her own (that would be dog watching).  

Baci e gelato,
Martello e Trofie

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