WARSAW — “You haven’t written for a few weeks now,” commented Tony as he backed his car into the street. “You’d better get one finished before our next trip.”

I looked up from scrolling through Facebook comments. “This John B. Lowe II mess is making Warsaw, Indiana, infamous everywhere. Perhaps this is a good opportunity to write about places to escape the social media deluge for a minute?”

“You aren’t going to say that in the article, are you?” Tony raised his eyebrows.

“Of course not,” I answered. “That would be like inviting people to troll our column, wouldn’t it?” I read three more comments and flicked the screen closed.

VENTURI – GOSHEN (35 mins.)

“You’re putting WHAT on a pizza?” A teenager in our party looked horrified. Our group of 8 (including two teenagers and a hungry elementary boy) had already eaten its way through five enormous Napolitano-style wood-fired pizzas with Italian toppings like sopressa, prosciutto, mascarpone, and pancetta. Those foreign words hadn’t scared away the boys, but THIS word did. We looked at the dessert menu again. Yep, it really said “Nutella, fig, and walnut pizza.”

Five minutes later (wood-fired pizzas are fast) we all had hazelnut and chocolate smeared in various ways around our faces. Our happy, satisfied faces. The only problem was having to roll back out to our cars to drive home. We recommend walking a few blocks over to a portion of the Millrace Canal trail for an after-dinner (or pre-dinner if you end up waiting) walk.

TIP: Venturi doesn’t take reservations, but you can find a place to get in line virtually on their website as you drive to Goshen. Be prepared to wait for a while as this place is popular.

CONNY’S LITTLE GERMAN BREADSHOP – PERU (50 mins.)

“How many people have given you tips from the column so far?” Tony asked from his spot at the stove cooking.

“We have quite a list. Next one comes to us from photographer Danny Holderman.” I licked my lips as Tony slid a steaming spinach omelet onto my plate. Of course, we needed sustenance for our Saturday road trip south and slightly east. We had both passed through Peru hundreds of times on our way to Indianapolis. This time we aimed to stop and look around.

We almost passed Conny’s in Peru. It’s a tiny place, but big with color and style. You’ll find Ukrainian flags, giant gnomes and lots of spunky signs. You can’t eat here, but we intended to buy some fresh bread and have a picnic in Peru.

Conny herself greeted us behind the counter. She has luminous silver hair, enormous blue eyes and a wide smile. She explained her daily offerings of Laugenbroetle (pretzel rolls), Schneckennude (cinnamon rolls), artisan and sourdough breads, cheesy rolls, cheesecakes and streusel cakes. We ended up walking out with three still-warm loaves and a fresh plum tart (which I ate walking to the car and immediately wished hadn’t been the last one).

TIP: Tell Conny that Danny sent you so she can take a picture and post it on Facebook.

DON QUIJOTE’S SPANISH RESTAURANT – VALPARAISO (70 mins.)

“Look,” Tony explained patiently. “Spanish means from Spain and Mexican means from Mexico. I’ve no idea why everyone interchanges these terms. This is a Spanish restaurant which means the owner originally came from Spain. Pontevedra, Spain, to be exact.”

I looked back down at the extensive menu where it described Chef Carlos’ childhood in Spain: Passion wasn’t taught, it was lived. Don Quijote’s is small, set up like how I remembered outdoor restaurants along the street had been in Madrid with cozy, congenial tables covered with lovely linens and flowers. Attentive waiters dressed in white aprons flitted about offering wine tastings and advice. We decided to order a bunch of tapas and share as our waiter highly recommended. “Or the paella,” he said. “It’s fantastic, but enormous, so make sure to share if you order it.”

After a few minutes of listening to the hum of happy patrons, and the strum of the live music guitar players, dishes started piling up on the table. Mushrooms with garlic, stuffed olives, empanadas, calamari, melted Manchego for dipping, Portuguese salad with artichokes and garbanzos, and patatas bravas. “Um, we ordered too much,” said Tony as he tucked a napkin under his chin.

The waiter brought us two authentic Spanish reds with a satisfied nod and withdrew to the tiny hallway where waiters needed hand signals to take turns carrying food from the kitchen. The food was marvelous. But, as I settled back to wipe sauce from my chin, the waiter magically reappeared and said, “Dessert?”

We added a caramel flan and thought the meal had ended perfectly. We were wrong. Chef Carlos himself stopped to chat about our experience. He held a jug. “I make my own port,” he told us proudly, and two small glasses appeared on the table. He poured us each a tiny bit and kissed his fingers. “On the house!” He settled the jug on the table. “No more than three glasses each.” He shook his index finger and went off to the kitchen to cook.

TIP: If you visit Don Quijote’s, bring Tony along. Chef Carlos loves Tony and always brings out the port when he sees him.

Know of an interesting place, statue or restaurant which you’d like to see featured in this column someday? Send SB Communications LLC an email at SBWritingHelp@gmail.com.