Memento shrine (Italy) 2025

Christmas morning for me, if somehow instead of Santa Claus coming down the chimney it was Babbo Natale.

My memento shrine, the haul from two weeks of consuming everything I love from il Bel Paese and my ode to all of the little items I stud my daily life with, in a bid to retain a bit of Italy in my otherwise suburban American life.

It may seem like an odd habit, these memento shrines, especially since I don't shop much back here at home. And what an example of conspicuous consumption! One magazine wasn't enough -- I needed three, plus the Settimana Enigmistica, my favorite puzzle  (there are competing puzzle magazines, but this is the real McCoy, to be clear -- wink wink), and several editions of the newspaper I read in Italy, Il Corriere della Sera, (the copies are buried in the photo under the striped box containing coffee cups from Bialetti, which constitute a somewhat new obsession: buying sets of coffee cups with Italian expressions on them for our morning coffee. Once upon a time, we were arranging trysts in hotel rooms in Madrid -- true story! -- now I consider it some mark of our love that every morning our coffee cups "match" because they form a set). (These cups read "Amore mio" -- my love/my beloved -- and "Sole cose belle" -- only beautiful things).

And, of course, books. As I mentioned I was able to find a book by Edith Bruck that's out of print, a Natalia Ginzburg that I needed (because I have now accepted that I will read one or more of her books every year, not unlike the ritual re-reading of A Christmas Carol) and three books from Giuntina, which has published many books by Holocaust survivors, and which I bought directly from the publisher, a lovely turn of events for many reasons (this haul includes Tagebuch by Liana Millu, the author of Smoke Over Birkenau; this latest acquisition is the notebook she kept as she journeyed home from the concentration camps at war's end).

The photo above represents not only my own consumption but also Leo's: the pricey Ferrari shirt? It ain't mine! Ditto the pale green sweater and sweatpants from Benetton (on mega sale!).

Other items of interest:

*A baby bottle of Vin santo

*Every possible permutation of Florentine paper gifts -- wrapping paper, note cards, posters, note pads

*Cans of fancy tuna in olive oil for the chef

*Biscotti for our morning coffee (a new kind! Mike is obsessed with ones that are integrali because he thinks they are healthier)

It's actually less of a haul than in previous years. When I win the lottery -- as Mike often says -- I am going to Italy and buying everything the newsstand guy (il giornalaio) sells and every book I've ever wanted at Feltrinelli and all the biscotti in the world (which is to say at the Conad supermarket) and every kind of Florentine paper, including Florentine wallpaper if that exists. And since we're talking about the lottery, an apartment in Florence.

Curious about previous memento shrines? This one is coffee-themed:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2017/06/italian-trip-2017-post-12-what-i-bought.html

And the more restrained Montreal edition:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2019/09/montreal-memento-shrine.html

Wow, I've been at it a while:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2011/04/christmas-in-april-il-nostro-inviato.html

Signed,

Your Italian memento scout

Italy? Still stunning

Of all the ways I've aged, perhaps the one I like best is how easily I am satisfied at times. 

I've written before in this space about the 24 hours I spent in Rome a few years back, and how utterly wonderful they were, no matter the scant time I had to enjoy the Eternal City. Now I come again to say almost any amount of time I spend in Italy is a cure for a life-threatening disease I didn't know I had.

If you read nothing else, let me also say this: We arrived in Italy a week ago and as usual it is both breathtaking and familiar! How lucky can I be that Italy feels familiar? So very lucky indeed. Also: I don't consider myself one to have a bucket list but something that could top it for me? Biking on the ancient Appian Way in Rome.

Pinch me -- maybe my bike tire rolled over a cobblestone once tread on by Julius Caesar's chariot! (Because yes, there are sections of the road with the original cobblestones). You can visit some interesting ruins and of course the catacombs.

That's one of the special things we did in Rome. We also visited (again) the Borghese Gardens and saw the Ara Pacis for the first time. Perhaps most importantly, for me, I visited with "my author" Edith Bruck and she is well (for a 94-year-old woman). I spent three glorious hours with her! She has a new book coming out in the Fall, I am pleased to say. She is not very mobile but as long as she is near a pack of cigarettes, she's OK! (She smoked those tiny thin cigarettes my entire visit).

Also, for the record: Seeing SPQR on every manhole cover in Rome is still cool! (Also cool: knowing it means senatus populusque romanus; the Roman Senate and people)

Oh and you can buy a calendar that features the faces of fresh, young priests every month of the year!

We explored Piazza del Popolo and the area around it (including Via del Corso, site of the nightly passaggiata) quite a bit since we stayed on Via Flaminia, one block outside of the piazza (thus we had to pass through a gorgeous monumental gate each day to enter Piazza del Popolo). It was ground zero for all of the young people visiting Rome last week for the Jubilee youth summit, owing to the fact that one of the churches on the piazza is a pre-requisite for all pilgrims before heading to the Vatican.

Rome was hot, somewhat crowded and still the Eternal City.

Best food so far:

Extra large, extra doughy ciambella (Rome)

Crostini with rabbit ragu

Pinsa with mozzarella di bufala and pomodorini

Fiori di zucca fritti

Verdure fritte miste

My favorite chocolate bar: dark chocolate ('fondente') with whole hazelnuts

Best walks so far

-- Cross the bridge closest to Piazza del Popolo, walk along Tevere to the bridge by Piazza Navona, stumble into the piazza where the Pantheon is located, then Via della Scrofa, which becomes Via di Ripetta until you reach Piazza del Popolo (Rome)

-- Walk along Arno in the town of Onda (mountain town outside of Florence)

I’m in the mountains now – the mountains of Italy – and need I say, it is absolutely beautiful? We visited small, run-of-the-mill towns yesterday and my heart broke from the beauty. It was the Jeanne-small-town variety of beautiful: a rocky stream with multiple small waterfalls ran through the center of town and you could walk along the stream (the towns of Londa and Stia). You could stand on a bridge and look over at the stream, and ogle the buildings that line the stream (including, in Stia, a restaurant where we ate).

At one point, we walked through the town of Stia during lunch hour, and the sound of Italian radio filtered out of a door or a window, much to my delight!

We try to do something different each trip, and this trip we have chosen to stay a few nights at an agriturismo in the mountains east of Florence. Good decision! We have visited mountain towns before but I don’t recall our ever staying overnight at a farmhouse as we are now. So imagine you’re visiting Vermont but all the signage is in Italian, the quirky tavern keeper speaks Italian, the tourists you find at the secret swimming hole are Italian (or German – but of course). Oh and it's somewhat hot.

And then there’s a certain extremity to the matter – the roads we travel to reach this farmhouse are so narrow, no American could possibly consider them fit for two-way traffic. I have visited Vermont many times and probably there are a few roads like this but are the locals going 90 mph around each turn?

While right now I am using my laptop and I have been texting with Italian friends, I am largely offline, content to read my Natalia Ginzburg book (Tutti i nostri ieri) (I've tried to read this novel before but it never appealed to me as much as her other books) and articles in the copy of L’Espresso I bought in Rome.

Right now, as I write: One of the barnyard cats is meowing outside our kitchen window. The silence is so complete, it is loud!

So far in Italy: I have walked – run – swum – biked.

What else? Leo (known as "Leonardo" here) has begun to tease me while I’m talking on the phone here to Italian friends:

I say: “Si,si.” And then he says, “Si,si.”

I say: “Certo.” And then he says, “Certo.”

My mind is not totally 'bifurcated' yet between English and Italian but getting there. 

So to sum up: Italy is still marvelous! And hearing Italian is still marvelous. Wish you were here! Especially some of you -- and you know who you are.

-30-

For your trip to Florence -- buonviaggio!

When my aunt and uncle embarked on a trip to Florence last year (after an absence of 40 years!), I realized I have slightly skimped on travel tips here on Ciambellina or in some cases not organized the posts with tips well so I am going to try to unite everything here in one post. Everything you -- my friend, my Ciambellina reader, my cousin, my uncle -- need to know in order to have a special trip to Florence, Italy (where I still live in my heart). You can thank Aunt Maureen and Uncle Pat!

Before I get to specific tips and itineraries, let me mount my linguistic soap box: learn some Italian before you go. 

Not to be nice or cosmopolitan, and not to improve the American image abroad (magari!). 

But rather because: speaking Italian with an Italian is one of life's special pleasures.

The other major bits of advice:

*Walk as much as possible

*Visit the main produce markets

*Have a ciambella (and bring a few back for me).

OK, sermon over.

Where to go

Assuming you will tick off the major sites listed in your guide book or online (the Duomo, the Uffizi, l'Accademia, San Marco, Cappella Brancacci, etc.), I will move onto advice about other attractions in Florence.

One of the main recommendations I want to make is: Visit the Villa and Giardino Bardini. Most people visit Boboli Gardens, which is quite lovely but I think the Bardini is even better. The gardens are gorgeous [terraced in some parts] and the views stunning. When I was in Florence last summer, our ticket somehow got us entry to both, though I don't know how you would visit both in one day and see everything. 

(Note, they are both on the other side of the river).

Also on the other side of the river: Forte Belvedere and Piazzale Michelangelo. I recommend walking to both, but have your walking shoes handy. Both sights are gorgeous, with views equally as gorgeous. There's likely some important historical note someone else could tell you about.

There are also specific corners of the city that I love. I'll start with piazzas: 

Piazzas I love (to walk through, to stroll through, to gaze at, to sit in)

Piazza Santo Spirito (there's often a market on in this square)

Piazza del Carmine

Piazza dei Ciompi

Piazza della Repubblica (now with a carousel)

Piazza della Signoria

Quirky neighborhoods

Piazza Torquato Tasso: Real people live in this neighborhood! Locals gather to play soccer in the park at the center of the piazza and you could go over to Al Tranvai if you wanted authentic but decidedly unfussy Florentine food.

Piazza Santo Spirito: Still where you might find artisan workshops, real Florentines and flourishes of the everyday dolce vita, though to be honest, overtourism is swallowing up these things, even here.

Santa Croce (or one quirky aspect of the neighborhood): the area across from the piazza and the church was originally settled by Etruscans and it's one of the few places in the city where roads curve. There are some tiny, hidden piazzas and viuzze here that are fun to discover.

Speaking of which...

Where to eat

I mentioned Trattoria Cammillo (Borgo San Iacopo, #57R) in a previous post about restaurants in Florence because it's a place that I like (and Beyonce also liked it!).

Cibreo is also good -- there are actually multiple Cibreo storefronts in the same basic area, depending on your budget (Via Andrea del Verrocchio #8R). Here are some other recommendations:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2015/05/where-to-eat-in-florence-update.html

Note, a lot of the places I like are on the other side of the river and two are in Piazza Santo Spirito: Trattoria Casalinga and Borgo Antico. The piazza is also quite lovely (see above) and the church was my father's favorite (designed by Brunelleschi).

I also love Ristorante Caffe Italiano on my old street, Via della Vigna Vecchia.

Where to eat and shop for dinner

I really like going to the public produce markets in Florence and the two main ones in centro are the Mercato di San Lorenzo (by the station; it is the best-known) and the Mercato Sant'Ambrogio; this last one is where I did my shopping when I was an ex-pat. It is east of Santa Croce -- and has fantastic cheese, sliced meats, veggies, etc. 

The San Lorenzo produce market -- the main market -- is now a wonderful place to dine and shop. You have to wade through the outdoor flea market surrounding the market to reach it but it's worth it.

Not just where to eat but what

People rave about pasta but here's a secret: Italian sandwiches are divine. Note: in the Old Country, they are nothing like a sub or a hero. Freshly made and reflective of all the Italian culinary acumen we've come to expect in pasta dishes, the Italian sandwich you can buy at a bar is something not to miss. Antico Noe is one of the best places for sandwiches, and not only because it is literally tucked inside a medieval arch a half-mile from Piazza Santa Croce (with a view of a medieval tower I once lived atop, but that's neither here nor there).

Other highlights:

Crostini -- as an appetizer. In the event these are new to you: little toasted slices of bread with toppings, including chicken pate, freshly-chopped tomatoes, mushrooms, etc.

Prosciutto crudo -- I believe it's part of Italy's culinary patrimony and I am not joking. Salty, silky, delicious. I don't care if you're a vegetarian -- my Italian friends certainly didn't when I pretended to be one in college and they kept urging me to eat prosciutto! (Ma dai!)

Cinghiale -- Wild boar. It's used often as the main ingredient of an amazing pasta dish that I suggest you order: pappardelle al cinghiale. It's available everywhere!

Porcini mushrooms -- if they are in season

Fiori di zucca (zucchini flowers) -- fried or stuff

Italian pastries -- Forget gelato. The real treats in Italy are pastries. Look for bars that say 'produzione propria' (that means they make their own pastries) or head to a pasticceria.

(Also grab a chocolate bar at the supermercato/alimentari if it has whole nocciole in it -- the big nut at the center of the baci candies. Why have one nocciola when you can have an entire chocolate bar full of them?)

Where to walk...

In addition to "everywhere," I also recommend walking to the other side of the river -- often. From there, as I've mentioned, you can walk to Forte Belvedere, Piazzale Michelangelo and the Bardini gardens.

Indeed some of the nicest walks are in the area around San Niccolò (the other side of the river) because they allow you to get outside the walls of the city and go up into the hills. One place you could try walking to is Forte Belvedere.

Where to have a coffee and step onto a page of A Room With A View:

There are old-school caffes that make your morning coffee feel royal and four of them are on Piazza della Repubblica, of which Caffe Gilli is probably the best (coffee/pastries/aperitivo etc); also the Rivoire on Piazza della Signoria will make you feel as though you're a wealthy landowner.

Where to drink wine

Everywhere! That's one of the things that makes Italian coffee bars special -- you can order a caffe latte in the morning and un bicchiere di vino rosso in the evening!

But I will give one recommendation of a place to drink: Rose's on Via del Parione; it's on one of the more beautiful streets in the center city. Drink outside at one of the tiny tables where you can watch fancy Florentines walk and bike by.

Look for a place called 'enoteca' to sample some good wine. I also love the hole-in-the wall (literally) kiosks where you stand on the street at a counter and order a glass of wine and maybe a sandwich.

Pastries

You'll find an entry for gelato below but as I mentioned, I think paste or pasticcini [pastries] are the unsung sweets of Italian cities (unsung, I should say, by Americans. Italians know). And really, by now, you should know my favorite: la ciambella or ciambellina (looks like a donut if a donut was baked in God's kitchen). Also good: un bombolone (similar but without the hole and typically filled with crema). 

Gelato

Vivoli (Via Isola delle Stinche) around the corner from our old apartment is very popular and also very good but so is Festival del Gelato right off of Piazza della Repubblica (down the block from the Duomo). Also good (and popular): Gelateria Carraia and Gelateria Santa Trinita (both are stationed on the other side of two consecutive bridges across the River, Oltrarno side).

Souvenirs

I still buy souvenirs and so should you! I favor paper goods because reading in Italian is my passion (and paper was an ancient Florentine art) so my suitcase is always loaded down with novels and magazines but the category also includes notepads, calendars and the like, which would appeal to anyone.

I find some of the best souvenirs can be had at the big bookstore on Piazza della Repubblica: Libreria Feltrinelli (there are also lots of kiosks right in front of the bookstore that may have something you like). In addition, I highly recommending visiting the Bialetti store for the classic Italian Moka coffee pot (and coffee cups and other accessories).

Lastly, I know some of you out there are real foodies so I recommend checking out a website published by a local Florentine food writer who knows her stuff (and has Catholic interests -- hugely into sushi, etc.):

https://www.ioamofirenze.it/

She recently published a guide on her blog to choosing a restaurant in Florence:

https://www.ioamofirenze.it/mi-consigli-un-ristorante/

Note, it's in Italian but all the addresses you see everywhere (on maps, for hotels, etc) are in Italian anyway and the names of restaurants are in Italian on the sides of buildings so if you really want to go somewhere, you'll figure it out. I suggest choosing something from her guide under the category 'Trattorie tipiche' ('local, traditional eateries'), with the name of the restaurant in bold at the start of each entry (then Google the name of the restaurant and figure out where it is). She also has a heading for fine dining (in English) and if you have the euros, go for it!

Buonviaggio!

-30-

 

The Italian trip memento group photo

How did it start? Why would you do it? Who can say? But as far back as when I lived in Allentown (at least), I've been gathering all the wonderful items I collected during my trips to Italy and snapping a photo of them.

A group photo of my souvenirs.

I even wrote about it for Catapult!

So here's this trip's memento group photo. There's not much that I do that's unique -- there are even other hair-twirlers in the world. There are certainly other pushy, petite broads around (to the Franciscan brother who tried to tell my mother that I was refreshingly outspoken when I arrived at St. Anthony's, my mother said, "She's very pushy!").

But so far I haven't met anyone else who ritually poses her purchases for a group photo after trips abroad.

(I did it when we visited Montreal, too. So foreign souvenirs occupy a special spot in my psyche).

It may stem from a habit I have that's connected with Christmas: I leave the gifts under the tree for as long as possible. That's what we did, growing up. God Bless Pat: she was not one of those mothers who was snatching the wrapping paper from your hands and socking it into a trash bag as you were  still unspooling it from the gift. Nope! You got to revel in opening the gifts and also gaze lovingly at them, day after day during your school holiday.

Similarly, I leave the Memento Shrine (TM) intact for as long as possible. It's an unusual ode to conspicuous consumption for me, not because I am virtuous but simply because I am not a shopper. I still have the lacy jacket-like shirt that I bought in a London thrift store in 1995 as well as the black-and-white scarf my sister, Denise, gave me in high school, because to replace them, I'd have to enter a shop. And not one that sells cutesy Italian paraphernalia. Which brings me back to my point.

Items of interest this trip:

*New Bialetti Moka AND coffee AND mug; I guess the Bialetti company figured they should begin roasting coffee to go with their signature stove-top coffee makers

*Spaghetti definition place mat (it says spaghetti is something you must never go without in your pantry)

*Tins of Callipo tuna

*A picture frame swathed in traditional Florentine paper (and various journals, pencils and notecards -- singlehandedly keeping the Florentine paper industry in business)

*Books, of course, including a back back back issue of Granta Italia, which I had been searching for since on Amazon it costs a zillion dollars

*And the edition of the Corriere della Sera with the headline, "Addio al governo Draghi," which I wrote about already.

I linger over these items because the time in Italy is so precious. And so different. Another Jeanne emerges when I step off the plane. Indeed, all of these purchases reflect the habits of this other person -- going about on foot, making acquisti, collecting mementos (this time: packets of sugar from the coffee bars I visited --- shhh! Don't tell Mike. For some reason, he thinks the house is full of clutter). Oh and also moments. Collecting lots of moments.

It helps that I never have to step inside a big box store. It helps that I don't have to traverse a parking lot to examine the Spaghetti place mat or obsess over the gorgeous paper goods.

Also, that when I am done, I can repair to a bench in a piazza to revel in what I've bought. La dolce vita, in a nut shell.

-30-

In Italy the streets are my lab (Seconda volta)

The first morning in Milan (which is to say the first morning of the trip), I wake at 6:50 a.m. and head out subito -- immediately -- on foot while Leo and Mike sleep. 

Left out of the hotel, and left onto Via Turati (where Mike is delighted to discover the San Carlo potato chip HQ is) to find the perfect caffe for a cappuccino & una ciambellina. I did OK – a small corner job, workman-like but some of the paste (pastries) I bought were still hot! And fancy isn't always the ticket. 

I begin collecting information immediately because in Italy, the street is part of my lab -- language lab, culture lab, architecture lab. The coffee bars, too, and any surface that contains Italian writing. They are my beat.

So I notice the massive macchinetta for the coffee is giving the barista trouble and the building that houses the American embassy is also home to Radio Monte Carlo (the station name, when I read or say it quietly to myself, is broadcast in my head in the original Italian that you would hear on the radio).

I also notice, much to my chagrin, that English is everywhere – everywhere. But for different audiences. In some cases, it's there to communicate to people born speaking English. In other cases, it's an absurd flourish (or whatever the opposite of flourish is) to an otherwise Italian-only public service message or advertisement (Trenitalia, I am looking at you!).

Morning #2, I go to Il Chiosco Manin, an outdoor coffee counter in Milan, just to the left of an entrance to the public gardens. A customer beside me ordered, “Un caffe per cortesia.” (‘A coffee, please,’ except that he used the form of please that includes the word ‘courtesy’ – and the order feels extra courtly. Also, for those of you playing along at home, un caffe = an espresso. If you want a cappuccino -- and I do -- you have to say cappuccino).

Another man bikes up to get his coffee. “Ciao Salvatore,” he says to the barman.

While I have my cappuccino at the tiny bancone that sits on the street, the radio is on, and it’s perfection.

Another woman arrives at Il Chiosco and the barista says, “Ciao Lorena.” It's like I'm gatecrashing a party where everyone else knows each other, but no one minds I am there.

I eye the oranges that are used for smoothies – tempting. Meanwhile someone calls out, “Buon di!” Then the garbage truck arrives – and the sanitation workers get out of the truck to have their coffees, too.

I am observing. And when I am done observing while standing still, I say my goodbyes to the barista and begin walking again to observe some more. I feel like I could walk all day and only then would I be sated, happy, fully on vacation. 

Vacation for Jeanne = walking in Italy (while someone speaks behind me, next to me, near me in Italian -- and yes, Heather D-R from St. Anthony's, also when someone speaks Italian directly to me, but I didn't want to get greedy. Those first few days, I am almost struck speechless by how thorough the change of scenery is from America to Italy).

Now I am walking through a stone gate that’s part of the old walls of the city – next to the fancy shopping street Via della Spiga – and the sidewalk ducks under a portico (do we have porticos in America? We should). 

Internal courtyards abound in Milan and the portoni (front doors/main entrances of buildings) to them reveal oases of greenery and sometimes sculpture.

I’ve struggled to find an open giornalaio in Milan – even the concierge at our hotel shrugged his shoulders. Victims of the pandemic, which is heartbreaking because newsstands are Italian mom-and-pop stores that double as mini-piazzas. A place for an exchange. (They also sell Pokemon cards! Ask me how I know!)

But Mike manages to buy for me at Milano Centrale:

-La Settimana Enigmistica (weekly puzzle magazine)

-Bell’Italia (most beautiful travel magazine you've ever seen)

-La Cucina Italiana (food mag)

Doing the frontpage crossword in the puzzle mag ('Settimana Enigmistica' -- you can see the word 'enigma' in there), I learn, or re-learn, that 'musicare' is a verb (clue: “Musicò Tosca.”)

I am collecting information about 1,000 tiny moments, 1,000 tiny encounters between myself and Italy. Later in Rome, I trip over myself to snap a photo of the perfect graffiti spotted as we entered the Villa Borghese from Piazza del Popolo: ‘Sei bella come Roma’ = You're as beautiful as Rome. Not sure there is a way to top that, other than -- maybe -- you're as beautiful as the Taj Mahal or a hologram of your face should be beamed permanently from the sky.

Everything that has words draws my attention (as I may have, ahem, mentioned). I walk the streets each morning silently repeating phrases from ads, billboards, shop windows ("Idraulico, giorno e notte" = Plumber available all hours; "Traslochi/sgomberi" = relocations, junk removal; "Saldi" = sales).  I am shopping a lot but mainly my kind of acquisti, like anything sold at the giornalaio (newsstand). Yesterday I bought La Gazzetta dello Sport just so Leo could see Italy’s pink sports newspaper (he marveled that there seemed to be 35 pages about soccer and 1 page about car racing and maybe 1 page about volleyball and that’s it). I told him that anywhere in Italy, when you see someone across the bar or piazza holding a pink newspaper, you know at a glance he or she (OR HE!) is reading the national sports newspaper.

What I bought so far:

*Il Corriere della Sera (2X)

*L’Espresso (magazine)

*Panorama (magazine)

*A new red Moka coffee pot from Bialetti (yes I now have probably 10 Mokas of various sizes)

*La Gazzetta dello Sport (see above)

*A lightweight plastic basketball for Leo (dal giornalaio!)

*A kitchen towel

*A place mat with the “definition” of Spaghetti

*A bare midriff shirt (ma sei matta? Am shopping around now for a new lifestyle so I can actually wear it)

*A green wool sweater from Benetton like the brown one I've had for more years than I care to admit

*10 or so books (including two by Edith Bruck; when Leo saw another copy of Andremo in Città, he said, ‘Mommy, you have that one already!’ I suppose seeing it around the house for a few years will do that.)

I am no different than all the other tourists snapping photos. Except I snap photos of the 'Missing dog' flyers on utility poles and the tree stumps some cracker jack street artist has transformed into sculpture, not to mention compelling graffiti and street signs of particular relevance (I will always take a photo of  the sign for Via della Vigna Vecchia anytime I visit Florence -- it was once my home).

We are taking trams in Milan and some of them are “antiques.” The #1 tram line that we took to Castello Sforzesco is just such a model. Wooden bench seats line the walls of the tram. There’s a shimmy and shake to its accelerations. Like a mobile museum that allows a step back in time in addition to a method of transportation.

One of the major streets in Milan is Via Alessandro Manzoni and that tickles me for some reason. Like, where in New York is the F. Scott Fitzgerald Boulevard?!

Italy is basically just one big Tickle-me Elmo doll. Every damn thing -- good or bad -- intrigues me.

That's all for now from Il Belpaese.

-30- 

Ritual ciambellina photo (so fresh!)

We did go to the Coliseum while we were in Italy, I will have you know, since the boy wanted to go there, and we also showed him St. Peter's; while in Milan, we visited the Castello Sforzesco, which I had somehow missed multiple times on previous visits to the city.

But I was in Italy for the ciambelline.

You know that!

(Also there for the overheard chatter at caffe counters and in the street, as you also know).

And wow they were good.

OK, no I wasn't able to share with Leo a massive ciambellina fresh out of the oven as I did last visit to Italy on the final morning of the trip when we stumbled out of the hotel and across the street of tiny Fiumicino (it's also a town) into a nondescript coffee bar shortly before our flight home. But that's possibly a once-in-a-life-time ciambellina event, as ciambelline aficionados know (ahem!). (It was nearly the size of a dinner plate and did you hear me? Fresh out of the oven!)

So yes, I had lots of good ciambelline during our trip this summer to Italy, including the one above in Rome. Actually, this time around I had some ciambelle (what I would call ciambelline) and some ciambelline (li'l baby-sized numbers), if I follow the nomenclature of the bariste. 

I also had some cornetti, including some fresh out of the oven (thanks to Caffe Portofino on Via Cola di Rienzo in Rome). (Cornetti caldi makes me think of the Jovanotti song "Gente della Notte," in which he sings about staying out all night and having breakfast at the crack of dawn feasting on cornetti caldi, hot croissant-like pastries).

Sometimes I bought them "da portare via" and we would eat them back at the apartment we were renting, or the hotel in Milan. But when I could, I lingered at the bar to watch the busy bariste at their craft. Or I saved mine for a scenic spot.

I often had to hunt around for ciambelline, going street to street and bar to bar, since the pastry cases aren't packed with them -- which is odd, because I believe they are gobbled up first since if I arrived too late there were sometimes none or only a few left (not a scientific claim, however, since I have never witnessed an Italian ordering a ciambellina but I have seen them order cornetti and other pastries like bomboloni in droves).

Anyhoo ritual ciambellina photo & ritual ciambellina blog post now in the books!

Oh before I go, any favorite Italian pastries/favorite Italian pasticcerie anyone wants to mention? (Or other favorite dishes?) I tried to branch out a bit this trip -- though I will always be a ciambellina-lover.

Yours truly,

Miss Ciambellina

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Florence journal

July 28, 2022

It's 8:40 a.m. and so far today I have:

 

*Written in my journal

*Jogged along the Arno

*Fatto la moka con biscotti (made coffee with the moka coffee pot plus breakfast cookies -- my preferred breakfast any day of the year)

*Visited una pietra d’inciampo in Piazza Santo Spirito (stones that mark the homes of Jewish Italians deported by the Nazis during WWII)

*Had a cappuccino (at Caffe Ricchi on the piazza – old haunts)

*Watched rowers along the Arno

*Found a new place for ciambelline (Pasticceria Balletti on Borgo Ognissanti)

*Took inventory of what’s new in my old old neighborhood (=Oltrarno/Santo Spirito section. The restaurant Borgo Antico still there, also Trattoria Casalinga still there, Residenza Sorelle Bandini where Daddy stayed in 1996 when he came to visit me, gone – or in any event existing under a new name; morning market on, Caffe Cabiria still there, I Raddi at the corner now has picnic tables outside; opposite my old apartment on Via dei Serragli, the fiaschetteria is still there but now I see they have a warehouse across the street where they store all the wine).

I see Ballerini, the tiny bakery on the street of our rental apartment, also has homemade cantuccini for dunking in vin santo – duly noted for later.

In other news: Half of Spain is visiting Italy!

From yesterday’s journal: I can now say I have seen Galileo’s finger! (at the Museo del Galileo in Florence, which is a science museum). Jealous yet?

This morning’s marathon walk took me from Borgo Ognissanti to:

Via del Melagrano – Lungarno Vespucci – Piazza Goldoni (at foot of my old bridge, Ponte alla Carraia; I used to pass the statue of Goldoni every morning as I hurried to get the bus just beyond Piazza Santa Maria Novella) – via della Vigna Nuova – via del Purgatorio – back to Via della Vigna Nuova – then via degli Strozzi – Piazza della Repubblica (where I visit the newsstand) – Via Orsanmichele -- Via Calzaiuoli – all culminating in Piazza della Signoria (Florence’s living room) where I swoon, turning the corner into the square and seeing the tower of Palazzo Vecchio (largely mine for the ogling at this hour).

From there, I make a stop on Via Georgofili, behind the Uffizi, for my ritual visit to the monuments marking where the Mafia detonated bombs in 1993 in an effort to deter criminal investigations and reassert its iron hand (oddly, I was in Sicily at the time it happened – and yes I am that old, but don’t tell Leo).

This morning, I see paddleboarders in addition to rowers on the Arno. I would say rowing on the Arno would be perfection. 

(Writing in your journal while gazing across the Arno to Chiesa di San Frediano in Cestello? Also perfection).

I stop in to pray at Chiesa Ognissanti on my way back and ethereal choral music fills the sanctuary, a perfect accompaniment to prayer & contemplation. 

Later, when we all go back, Mike gives money to Leo to light a candle and I tell him to say a prayer for Grandma. At this rate, Pat has been prayed for in half the churches in Italy. I am mindful of their trips to Italy both to visit me and on their own, including the trip to Milan where Mommy left a message that began, "Buongiorno Jeanne!" 

I have mentioned it before on this blog but I am not sure you -- I! -- could ever sufficiently savor my mother's heavy Brooklyn accent wrapping itself around 'good morning' in Italian. The intertwining, as it were, of my two lives, as if there weren't already overwhelming evidence of how very lucky I am.

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I sing of ciambelline, tagliatelle & vino

Arma virumque cano ... the three words that launch Virgil's Aeneid (and also indirectly my study of Italian since studying the modern Romans means studying Italian) and which I memorized long ago in my high school Latin class translate as: "I sing of arms and the man," or, "Arms and the man I sing."

Nothing quite so lofty for me; rather, of ciambelline, tagliatelle, cappuccino (made right), biscotti, focaccia, polenta, prosciutto, cioccolato and vino I sing.

I wouldn't even say I have eaten particularly good on this trip, compared to other visits or to the period when I spent months and years here. But still, let's be serious: I have eaten things fit for a president. Or maybe even the Pope. Because in Italy, non si scherza. No joking around (when it comes to food -- lots of joking around when it comes to everything else).

At night when I am drifting off to sleep or on a long car ride, I often think about what makes Italy different from America, and when it comes to food, I always think their penchant, their insistence, their belief in moderation is the key. As I walk the streets of Italy surrounded by the artful display windows of coffee bars and osterie and gelaterie, it can be hard to believe that Italians subscribe to moderation but oh, they do. I often tell people about the scenes I've witnessed at dinner parties where Italians fight over who will be FORCED to eat what's left of the pasta dish or the second course. Because if they believe they've had enough, they are loathe to have more than enough.

I don't know if I've really embraced moderation this trip -- my trips to Italy in the past decade have often consisted of double breakfasts (two ciambelline -- yes due!!! -- or a ciambellina followed by a yoghurt), something I would never have done when I lived here. But I know that anytime I've overdone it, I've felt ill at ease. And I think that's how Italians feel. They don't want to be "stuffed," as we would say in America. They want to satisfy their hunger and then move on.

OK, without further ado, here's a sampling of what I've eaten during this visit to Italy:

*Ciambelline: these are the donut-shaped pastries that are my favorite and which inspire a hunt each trip (each morning of each trip) to find the best. The hunt is especially keen since this is the second holiday in Florence where my old pasticceria/bar is closed for vacation. Also see name of blog.

*Bomboloni: Same basic stuff as a ciambellina (singular) but without the hole and typically filled with custard. If donuts came without the hole and were light and airy and fresh from the oven: they would be bomboloni.

*Focaccia: Salty, oily bread. So good it's made its way -- in bastardized form, typically -- to America.

*Polenta con i funghi: I don't eat polenta much outside of Italy but I do like it. And also good with mushrooms.

*Prosciutto crudo: the only kind of prosciutto I eat. I love its salty, silky texture. I had it in sandwiches and plain, as part of antipasti.

*Crostini: (as you probably know) little toast appetizers that in Tuscany frequently feature pate. Delicious! Especially in Italy. Not especially outside of Italy.

*Fiori di zucca (fritti): fried zucchini flowers. Had them in Florence at Antico Ristori dei Cambi near Borgo San Frediano. Squisiti (literally: exquisite).

*Panzanella (con pane croccante): Prepared by my friend Veronica, this "wet" salad features bread prominently, in addition to tomatoes and cucumbers.

*Polpo (had it twice, in fact): Octopus. I could be an Octopusarian.

*Pecorino con miele: Florentines (dare I say Italians?) like combining salty pecorino cheese & honey. Had it at Osteria Centopoveri.

*Cioccolato alle nocciole: Like a bacio candy, but a whole chocolate bar with WHOLE hazelnuts. Yes it exists, yes it rocks and in Italy the supermarket stocks plenty.

*Gelato, gusto: nocciola (and only nocciola): I don't always eat a lot of gelato but this trip I haven't resisted all that well. And why should I? Last I checked even Ben & Jerry's doesn't make hazelnut ice cream (plain -- it's already perfect, no need to add any zany ingredients).

Plus: a dozen cappuccini, and gallons of fizzy water.

And I still don't think it's enough. 

Buon appetito, y'all!

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Mi consigli un ristorante? Ultimate Florence dining guide

I consider the author of the Italian blog IO AMO FIRENZE the gold standard for restaurant reviews of places in Florence. She has visited nearly every restaurant in Florence, I suspect! She's also extremely knowledgeable about the city. And now she has written the ultimate guide to dining in Florence.

Your Italian rusty? All you really need to know is the meaning of the subheds, and I'll help you out. Here are the first two categories:

'Trattorie tipiche' = literally typical restaurants, or what I would call traditional, local eateries. Something authentically Florentine. These are the places I've visited time and time again.

Ristoranti toscani di fascia più alta -- Higher-caliber (and high dollar) restaurants that serve Tuscan cuisine

Once you've decided what kind of dining experience you want, google the name of the restaurant (in bold) and see if it's in a part of the city you want to visit. You won't go wrong with her recommendations if you're looking to have a typical Italian meal (she's also very knowledgeable about other kinds of cuisine, especially Asian, but here limits herself to Italian food).

Many of these are restaurants aren't mentioned much in guide books, if at all. For my money, I'd like to visit the following places she mentions (under trattorie):

*Sostanza (detto i’Troia) 

*Trattoria Marione

*Il Brindellone

If you see a place you want to go and would like a translation of what she wrote, leave a comment here!

I've blogged about great places to eat as well and you may want to take a look at where I ate in 2015 on a solo trip to the city of Dante:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2015/05/where-to-eat-in-florence-update.html

There's also a quickie overall guide to Florence that I put together a few years ago:

https://ciambellina.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-quick-hit-guide-to-florence.html

The guide at IO AMO FIRENZE is, again, here:

https://www.ioamofirenze.it/mi-consigli-un-ristorante/

Buon appetito!

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Italian diary, May 2017 (re-post)

I’m back in the “in-between” world, the space where sentences begin in one language and end in another. 

It’s a world that I inhabited for many years and then withdrew from (in Allentown, when I resigned myself to being stateside).

The in-between world is one I love and I loathe – loving it because Italian quickens my pulse! I become Italian Jeanne -- who has the luxury of walking everywhere, yes everywhere, every day, which only serves to ratchet up my already overflowing reserves of enthusiasm and energy. I might just walk someone to death in Italy, purely out of the joy of movement in my adopted country!

I also loathe the in-between world because it plunges me into saudade. What was, what could have been, what wasn't. America is the land of opportunity -- but it is not, for the most part, a land with an excess of perfectly-planned, grand public spaces linked by achingly beautiful cobblestone streets to other perfectly-planned, grand public spaces, where you can be both with and without people. Where you can see something heart-stoppingly beautiful outside of yourself and something deep inside of you, too.

I walk through the streets of Torino (or insert here whatever Italian city that I happen to be visiting) and I want to consume everything. Not merely a panino or a gelato, the things one normally consumes, but buildings, nooks, mossy courtyards, caffes, signs – especially signs, any vehicle for the Italian language that falls under my sight. Also: cobblestone streets and the tight juxtaposition of shops and restaurants, piazzine, too, which are tiny, often hidden lands frequented only locals. Yes, I want to consumer those piazzine, those cortili (which especially in Torino seem to give access to worlds unseen), I want to mainline the way bikes cross piazzas and how content and confident the riders appear. I want to inhale how toddlers bound across the grand squares of Torino without a car in sight -- how Italian cities are made for children to be children.

I want to gobble up how homey some of the cafés appear – their singular arrangement of product and signage and sumptuously-arranged display window and ancient door, making me want to eat and drink items I don’t even like or simply don’t care for at the moment (no I don't need another caffe or brioche, and yet, well, while I am here...).

Seeing these homespun creations, I want to order 3 cappuccini, 4 ciambelline (like donuts but not), and also some other pastry that looks yummy and appena sfornata, a glass of acqua gassata, un bicchiere di vino rosso and maybe something else (I actually had breakfast twice every day I was in Italy this trip -- che golosa!).

It’s almost tender, how beautiful Italian cities are (and how welcoming their public and consumer spaces are). Made to be lived in, made for life outdoors, in the streets, in public. As if the Italians’ need for picturesque boulevards and quaint eateries is something they can’t help wear on their sleeves, as if it’s a remnant of the warm, coddled world of their childhood. That need to be welcomed and wanted by the world around us, by the barista, the giornalaio. That need for human contact.

At the risk of repeating myself, it will never be anything else but thrilling that Italy is a place I’ve called home, a place that’s still home to a very significant part of my mind. Somehow I am lucky enough to know this foreign country in the most intimate way. I didn’t simply live in Italy – it lives in me. Every time I’m here, I’m thoroughly inhabited by this bewildering, beloved, bedazzling country. 

Inhabited in a way that makes me spring to life, as if in Atlanta or America in general, I’m merely treading water, moving ahead instead of bursting onto the street and through piazzas as I do in Italy.

You may grow tired of reading this, and other posts that are similar, but I, at least, never seem to lose that thrill of contact with the culture. Even in moments of difficulty – where Italians insist on something absurd – this is still my Italy.

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