Florence: corner-store Negronis, maritozzi, and the sidewalk panino of my dreams
Eating, drinking, and the art of doing nothing (a foodie's guide)
It’s 1pm on a Friday in Florence. I’m grappling my way up the side of a wall along the Arno river (attracting an audience of viewers, no doubt), a schiacciata panino in one hand, my book in the other. My newfound vantage point situates me with a striking view of the Ponte Vecchio, as I blind myself under the hot Mediterranean sun (something my pale San Franciscan skin has long craved). The day was to consist of three non-specific ventures: acquire a sandwich, check. Enjoy the third iteration of my “café-a-day” journey. Find a city view. I unwrap my sandwich from its butcher paper, flakes of focaccia snowing onto my lap as I prepare my tastebuds for my first meal of the day. La Rosa from I’ Girone de’ Ghiotti – understated perfection. I take a comically large bite: schiacciata, arugula, prosciutto, brie, and truffle cream. It’s a bite so good I have to close my eyes to savor it. This is what life is all about.
I’m one week into my European “summer” arc (it’s late October), visiting my best friend of 12 years, who is living in Italy as a working artist. Catherine began her residency in May of last year, and naturally, my flight was booked shortly after hers. Her abode sits in a top-floor flat shared with four other young American women, her bedroom and studio acting as one. She sleeps in the loft of the room, her oil paintings draping every wall of the space, with the exception of a corner window boasting a sneaky view of the duomo. Upon arrival, we skipped town for Sicily, a four-day leg spent eating seafood, cannolis, and pistachio-flavored everything. The final leg of the trip would be spent in Paris, crashing at a friend’s apartment in the 11th, noshing on juicy duck à l’orange, croissants, and fernet.
In between this hustle and bustle is a humble five days spent in Florence. My solo outings perusing the cobblestone streets are spent engaged in a known Italian mantra: il dolce far niente. “The art of doing nothing.” Each nook of town holds a treasure trove of quaint eateries, moody bars, and perfectly simple sidewalks to enjoy a drink and people-watch passerby. I frolic through town on my own accord, absorbing the interactions which are seldom found by having an agenda. After all, there is no perfect experience without a willingness to have a bad one.
Here’s what I found myself reminiscing on.
Food + Drink
COFFEE SHOPS
My mornings are marked by a ritualistic journey to a new café in a different part of town, specifically for a cappuccino. I make it to four cafés in the course of five days: Café Cibreo, Brac, S. Forno, and Libri Liberi.
Cibrèo Caffé, Sant’Ambrogio
Pass-time: people watching with a sidewalk cigarette
Consume: cream pudding
Honorable mention: cozy hidden nooks
Cibrèo Caffé is the epitome of scene-y people-watching and eavesdropping on conversations. It’s an old school energy oozing from the inside out, situated in the historic Sant’Ambrogio district, still maintaining a “locals” feel (most patrons are speaking Italian). The bistro tables are emerald green, the chairs plush velvet red, and the walls plastered in art and ornamental lamps. The older gentleman making coffees behind the bar has an expectantly blasé expression.
Brac, Centro Storico (City Center)
Pass-time: shopping for Italian zines
Consume: cappuccino
Honorable mention: West Coast rap on the sound system
Day two leads me to Brac. I am one of two patrons in this establishment. This is my first attempt at ordering in only Italian, to which the barista smiles at my effort. The walls are covered in Italian titles and issues of independent zines. It smells like warm sugar and fruit (a tart has just been removed from the oven), and there is a stark juxtaposition of West Coast rap blaring from the kitchen. I appreciate a familiar sound. This is my favorite cappuccino of the week.
S. Forno Panificio, Santo Spirito
Pass-time: brunching
Consume: maritozzi
Honorable mention: delightful scent of bread wafting
My third day takes me across the river to my favorite neighborhood, Santo Spirito, for S. Forno Panificio (which I’d prefer to classify as a spot for a light meal rather than a place to grab just a coffee). I stumble here by happy accident. There is a small vintage photo booth outside, perfectly positioned next to a woman enjoying a sandwich in the window frame. Fresh baguettes, focaccia, and Italian pastries line the back of a glass case, artisanal sauces and accouterments on the shelves. The pastry case is option paralysis at its finest, but I settle on a gigantic brioche filled with lightly sweetened pastry cream (maritozzi – a Roman staple). I come back two consecutive days (and once 20 minutes before my train departure to the airport) for this pastry alone.
Libri Liberi, Centro Storico (City Center)
Pass-time: reading a book
Consume: decaf latte (unless you’re in the market for rocket fuel)
Honorable mention: whimsical outdoor garden
My final café-a-day venture brings me to Libri Liberi. I went to bed that morning at 5am; it was Halloween the night before. The culprit: giving into an alcohol-induced craving for kebab (we waited for 45 minutes). As you can imagine, this venture to the café was later than usual and an attempt to touch grass after drinking six corner store Negronis. The patio of this café was exactly what I needed. The sun glistened through the breezy trees, the birds were chirping, and I was entertained by a young Italian boy juggling a soccer ball. I proceeded with my MO for the week: one cappuccino. I neglected to tell the man I required a decaf because it was already 2:30 in the afternoon. I downed the strongest cappuccino I’ve ever had, then proceeded to have a full-blown caffeine-induced panic episode, only made worse by grappling through the crowds back to Catherine’s apartment. That was promptly the end of my caffeine consumption for the trip; it was great while it lasted.
QUICK BITES
I’ Girone de’ Ghiotti, Centro Storico (City Center)
Pass-time: take to-go and sit by the Arno
Consume: La Rosa Panino
Honorable mention: a shorter line than All'Antico Vinaio (and just as good)
I consistently fall victim to line lore, so imagine my relief to ditch the wait at All’Antico Vinaio for the premise of something just as good (if not better) at I’ Girone de’ Ghiotti. These sandwiches are made on schiacciata, a Tuscan bread that is thin and crunchy with a light interior, distinctively less spongy than focaccia in texture. This afternoon snack is the perfect testament to the notion of simplicity being the ultimate sophistication.
Gelateria Della Passera, Santo Spirito
Pass-time: nighttime stroll
Consume: two scoops: pistachio and fig ricotta
Honorable mention: a town square vibe
I was recently made aware of the stereotype that Americans love to compare and rank things, or say this is the “best — I’ve ever had” (see: the Beli app). Unfortunately, I am no better than this stereotype, and must declare Gelateria Della Passera is some of the best gelato I had in Italy. My pistachio fixation on this trip did not cease after Sicily, and this gelato struck a perfect balance of being nutty and rich but not too sweet. The fig and ricotta tasted like a warm hug on a cold night, showing off the remnants of fall produce. I can only imagine how wonderful this would taste on a hot day in the town square.
Da Nerbone + il Mercato, Centro Storico (City Center)
Pass-time: morning shopping through the Mercato (market)
Consume: porchetta sandwich with the jus
Honorable mention: hangover meal
Picture this: it’s 4am and you’re waking up in the motel near the Beauvais airport after sharing an hour and a half taxi-cab ride from Paris with two random Swiss men who were also in a bind (because you’re an idiot and you didn’t realize your flight was not out of de Gaulle). You board the plane at 6, arrive in Florence at 8, drop off your bags, and march your tiny bum to the Mercato for what quite literally feels like the “last supper”, before boarding your noon flight back to the US. You hand the man at the Da Nerbone counter a 5€ bill and in exchange you receive a juicy, drippy porchetta sandwich wrapped in plastic. You inhale it. It’s the best 5€ you’ve ever spent.
DRINKS + DINNER
Trattoria 4 Leoni, Santo Spirito
Pass-time: small-talk with strangers
Consume: the lasagne
Honorable mention: pear ravioli, a pleasant surprise
In an effort to relieve my jet lag, we booked 9pm dinner the night of my arrival. Trattoria 4 Leoni could be considered a “tourist spot” (a seemingly dirty word), but we have to remember that some tourist spots receive such accolades in popularity because it’s just that good. My post-plane ride cravings were violent, so naturally I had to order the meatiest, largest, sloppiest dish I could locate on the menu: the lasagna. I don’t know if this was the h-anger talking, so take my statements with a grain of salt, but this was one of the more outstanding bites on my trip. The lasagna was a perfect meat: sauce: noodle ratio and cooked to al dente perfection. Catherine’s pear ravioli was unlike anything I’ve ever tasted, and is more than enough reason to go back and have the same exact meal again.
Trattoria Ruggero, San Frediano
Pass-time: catching up with old friends
Consume: pesto gnocchi and white truffle fettuccine
Honorable mention: “locals only” energy
I receive a call on a Sunday evening from a +39 area code. It’s my dad’s best friend, Lucio, who had moved from LA to Italy a few years back. Unbeknownst to me, he lived in a flat on the left bank of the Arno with his wife. Catherine and I had a reservation that night for Ruggero – a small local trattoria recommended to her by a friend. I told Lucio I was busy but could meet him for coffee the next morning, to which Catherine whispered, “go with him, just take the reservation and do dinner!” Lucio picked me up on his motorcycle and we whipped through the streets up Via Senese. We caught up and told stories about my dad over a bottle of Chianti and white truffle fettuccine (it was truffle season, after all). No fuss ambiance, no fuss food. I will forever remember that dinner.
Bistrot al 5, Fiesole
Pass-time: day trip lunching
Consume: pici con ragu (pasta dish)
Honorable mention: collaboration with slow food movement
Bistrot al 5 was the perfect culmination of an afternoon spent walking the rolling hills of Tuscany, basking in cityscapes, and enjoying the sunshine. Catherine was fixing for a Florentine steak, and after two unplanned rejections from restaurants we surely thought would have room for us (rookie move on a Saturday) we landed here. These, almost always, become the best meals. I enjoyed a beautiful handmade pasta in ragu, Catherine swooned over her steak, and I gulped an Apérol spritz in one of the skinniest little wine glasses you’ve ever seen. We topped off the experience with a saffron and ricotta dessert, and moseyed our way back to Florence in a food-drunken haze.
Il Santino, Santo Spirito
Pass-time: aperitivo yapping
Consume: a bold glass of red
Honorable mention: gorgeous interior and petit sidewalk sitting
Il Santino is the one that got away. I first noticed it walking down the cobblestoned street, the sun glowing on the outdoor bistro tables, an array of cured meats hanging inside. It was reminiscent of a wine bar I’d enjoy in San Francisco or New York. I made immediate note of it; we had no choice but to come back and bask in this space. Close, but no cigar. It’s all the more reason to book another trip. I implore you, reader, to try it if you’re in the area. I can live vicariously through you.
