Many places are frightfully proud of their local culinary specialities. But before you leap at the chance to sample another new and unique experience, pause to think.
If it's so good, why does nobody outside this town of 5000 ever eat/drink it?
And thus, fellow noders, should you ever have the reasonably good fortune to be in the northern Italian spa town of Levico Terme and happen to go out for a meal when you are there, and should the cameriere offer to allow you - on the house, even - to finish off a tasty meal in pleasant surroundings with a cup of the town's beloved Carampampoli - then do anything you can to expedite your escape: pretend you only speak Finnish, feign a heart attack, froth at the mouth, proposition the owner's wife, try and pay the bill with a Belgian phonecard, but just say no.
For, in this otherwise idyllic spot, he will bring you the most noxious concoction you have ever tasted. By masterfully combining what would, individually, be perfectly palatable components - red wine, espresso coffee and grappa - they manage to achieve new depths of demonic horror. Your taste buds will be in intensive care for months, and you will never be able to go out at full moon again. Your hair will probably turn green, and, all in all, you are fairly unlikely to enjoy the rest of your holiday much. Do you deserve that, just for being an ignorant foreigner? I think not.