Nothing I've been cooking of eating lately is remotely as interesting as the fact that I'M GOING TO ITALY IN NINE DAYS.

By myself. And visiting four cities in just over a week's time. Despite not having any idea how far apart these cities are, or how to navigate the trains in Europe. Or how to speak the language. And being terrible at math, which makes the whole currency conversion thing just a nightmare.

Did I mention? By myself? I'm doing this all by myself?

Photo by Flickr user Moyan_Brenn

Oh dear.

I'm nervous! Excited, yes, but also nervous! I don't speak a word of Italian (unless you count espresso and pizza), and as a general rule I don't do terribly well with maps. Also, apparently it's incredible difficult to find nontouristy cafes in any of the four places I'll be focusing my time (Venice! Florence! Rome! Naples!).

Did I also mention, this is a coffee pilgrimage? This is a coffee pilgrimage. I'm going to Italy specifically to while away the hours in cafes, elbow to elbow with old men wearing tweed drinking espresso at standing bars, maybe slugging back a snappy glass of Sambuca every once in a while, taking it all in.

Which is to say: I need your help, friends and readers.

Have you been to any of these cities before, and can you recommend cafes to me? Can you also tell me where I might find exceptional gelato, delicious fresh pasta, vibrant vegetarian food, Italian-Jewish cuisine, and other locations only natives would visit?

Also also, if there are any expats-in-Italy who like to run, eat, drink coffee, or hang out with clueless visiting Americans: I am currently accepting offers of guiding, conversation, and eating on my dime. Interested? E-mail me!

Are you a sweet person, or a savory person?

I know there are folks who can't live without an after-lunch cookie, or a piece of chocolate at the movies; food lovers who drool over pictures of brownies on blog recipes, and thrill at ordering dessert at restaurants. I've always so enjoyed being around people who take this kind of pleasure in the sweeter side of life, and can find joy in a scoop of ice cream or a bite of candy.

But I've recently had to come to terms with the fact that I've become a savory person.

Not that my personality is savory—I'm still selfish, thoughtless, and a total nag with a mouth like a sailor—but I'm much more drawn to savory things, to the point of actually finding sweet treats profoundly overwhelming. While all my dining companions are arguing over which cake or tart to order at the end of a meal, I'm left wishing I had a few more bites of dinner.

Don't get me wrong: I can enjoy a cookie or an incredible piece of tiramisu every once in a while. It's just that the "every once in a while" seems to get more and more occasional, and the amount of whatever dessert it is that I find myself able to eat happily becoming less and less.

My perception of "sweetness" has changed so drastically since cleaning up my diet that a little goes a really, really, really long way: Things that never even registered on the cloying scale are now completely off the charts. Dark chocolate needs to be darker; hot chai definitely needs more spice and less sugar; unsweetened soy milk is the only type I can bear; and even certain kinds of fruit are way overpowering. (Kiwi, I'm looking at you.)

Have you ever found this happening to you? Is this how people manage to eventually kick their salt habits, by cutting it out until it becomes such a rare flavor as to be amplified to the point of overwhelming even in small doses? Will I ever be a normal cake-eater again!?

Eh, if I never have another piece of cake for the rest of my life (which won't happen), I know I'll live. As long as there's another bite of dinner, anyway.

Confident eater 014: Lonely Ethiopian (but it's OK)

Oklahoma City looks mighty pretty. At least it always does to me right around Christmastime, when Mr. Nervous and I go to visit his family there.

We usually fly in Christmas Eve, spend the following morning watching wee ones tear into beautiful wrapping paper with reckless abandon, and then sit down to the most perfectly casual early supper of this and that. (My sister-in-law Marci's famous ramen-and-cabbage slaw is a highlight when she hosts; this year, my niece Larissa whipped up some stunning cranberry-apple sauce and mashed-potato pie.)

But Nervous travelers can't live off holiday fare alone -- specially when over the course of the vacation one's Nervous husband come down with a case of some violent, bone-shakingly wretched 24-hour virus. Oh, the poor dear: It was truly one of the worst marathons of unpleasantness I've ever seen a human being endure.

Left to my own devices while he lay shivering sadly in bed, I needed to find something that could manage to maintain as merry and bright an outlook on life as could be managed at that particular moment. Which is why I decided I needed to eat with my hands.

Queen of Sheba, the one Ethiopian restaurant that exists within Oklahoma City proper, is my go-to fingers-as-forks destination, and it absolutely did the trick that temporarily bacheloretted Tuesday night after Christmas.

The vegetarian combo was, as always, exactly what the doctor ordered (for me, anyway -- not so much for Mr. Nervous): Lovely coffee-colored injera for sponging up wads of diblik atkilt (green beans, potatoes, zucchini, and carrots), gomen (stewed collared greens) and kik alicha (spiced yellow split peas). I couldn't have asked for anything better.

And sure, it might not be as festive to eat this type of food by oneself, but hey -- it's not especially festive to be sitting in the dark while your husband fitfully dreams and sweats his fever away, either!

Queen of Sheba
2308 N. MacArthur Blvd
Oklahoma City, OK 73127
(405) 606-8616