The gods of the lake were on our side, since they gratified us with a very bright and mild (for the season) weather.

We are nearly at the top of Mottarone Mountain, there would be still two hundred metres to climb exactly to the top and one would not be obliged to walk either;
there is, actually , a very handy chair-lift which would take us up.

But for reasons I refuse to investigate, my dear travel-mate and best friend, Sergey, who in his life has bravely survived Communist regime, the fall of Soviet Union, the intrusive attention of KGB, and other various vicissitudes,
in front of the perspective to take a chair-lift ,showed out a granitic stubbornness and categorically refused to take the “ dangerous device”.

So we remained just at the arrival of the cable-way where there is a restaurant with panoramic terrace.

Sergey, reassured from the fact that he could keep his Siberian feet firmly on the ground, displayed a certain interest for a possible lunch outdoor, on the terrace.

Even though it was a little windy, I thought it could be possible and we chose a table and ordered our drinks.

It was a family restaurant and the lady owner described her menu with enthusiasm.

We asked for typical dishes and she suggested us to taste some little rustic local specialities, a dish of various appetizers and then a kind of potatoes dumplings with mushrooms for Sergey and roasted rabbit for me.

Why do I describe all that in details?
Well, simply because just the memory of the incredible quantity of food the energetic lady served to us will keep on haunting my nights...

I must say that all was excellent, but the helpings were Pantagruelian.

We could have largely eaten both with only one dish of appetizers...
The situation started getting tragic because we didn’t dare to offend the kind lady...
We ate all what we could, but approaching the level of explosion we had to stop.

My dish of rabbit was not a normal dish of rabbit; it was the hecatomb of a whole family of rabbits, distant relatives included.

Without exaggerating it could feed four people at least.

So we were obliged to leave most of the food in the plate, that is something which I don’t like, when it’s good and well cooked, because it’s like a lack of respect for the cook.

I felt morally obliged to apologize with the lady-owner:

“Signora, it was really good, but too much, really too much!”

“ Ah, yes - the lady sighted – my husband, the cook thinks always that our clients eat as much as he does...”

In the meanwhile a couple of Americans came to sit at the nearby table, they could not speak Italian and tried to understand what there was written in the menu.

They were two retired people, very slim...

I heard them trying to decide what to order and I got very worried when I realized they were thinking to take two dishes each.

I told them about our experience and I suggested them to take just a fancy dish of appetizers to share.

They seemed to be puzzled, but they accepted my advice.

When the dish arrived, they look at its dimension and gratefully thanked us for the suggestion!

Sergey and I decided we would have not eaten anymore in all our life...well until tomorrow!