Italy – Studio Josie

The Italian Dish I Miss Most

A few weeks ago, I caught a nasty cold that had me housebound for a few days. I’ll admit that I’m a bit of a baby when it comes to being sick, so despite it not being Covid, strep, or the flu, I was (and still am) 99% sure it was worse than any cold I’ve had in recent history.

Over the week of my contagion, I consumed lots of ramen and vegetable broth to soothe my throat and offer my blocked nose a bit of relief. These are classic cold comforts, but as I slurped each noodle, I couldn’t help but crave a different comfort food. One that I hadn’t had in months.

It was my friend and former housemate Sabi who introduced me to tortellini in brodo. During our first semester living in Rome, we cooked together almost every night, exchanging recipes and techniques from our respective countries. She’s Italian, so a lot of my knowledge of Italian food comes from her — including how to make a killer tiramisù. And yet, the dish I’m most thankful to have learned about is tortellini in brodo, or, in English, tortellini in broth.

Tortellini hail from Italy’s central food haven, Emilia-Romagna. The region, which sits just above Tuscany and just below Veneto, is known for some of the country’s best, most archetypal foods, including Prosciutto di Parma, Parmigiano Reggiano, and real-deal balsamic vinegar. Bologna, its capital city, is equally as renowned for its food (and its enchanting porticoes). Think ragù alla Bolognese, mortadella, and, yes, tortellini.

The most traditional tortellini bolognesi are filled with Prosciutto di Parma, Parmigiano Reggiano, pork, mortadella, eggs, and nutmeg. However, you’ll find a variety of fillings, such as spinach & ricotta, in both pastifici (pasta shops), and in the grocery store — which is where my love affair with tortellini in brodo began.

Sometime during my first fall in Rome, I was at the grocery store with Sabi and my other housemate, Martina. We were shopping for the week ahead and were at a standstill in the fresh pasta aisle, eyeing the new array of seasonal Giovanni Rana ravioli. From truffle-filled to basil-tinted, we frequently went for Rana’s ravioli, but that day, we decided to change it up and go with tortellini filled with prosciutto crudo.

Giovanni Rana offers two types: sfogliavelo, which are smaller tortellini made with a thinner dough, and sfogliagrezza, which are a bit bigger and have a tougher dough. We went with the tiny sfogliavelo. They take only a minute to cook, and in my opinion, are far superior.

Sabi immediately knew what we were going to do with them. We would plop a few little broth cubes into boiling water and cook the tortellini in it. Then, we’d serve the tortellini and the broth together, sort of like soup. Tortellini in broth; it couldn’t be simpler.

In brodo is the most traditional way to eat tortellini in Bologna. You can find them served in various cheese, cream, or tomato sauces, but if you’re visiting Bologna and want to try a traditional dish, broth is the way to go. Usually, it’s a simple homemade meat broth, but veggie broth is equally acceptable. Regardless, the tortellini are the star of the show; the broth should be flavorful, but it should never overpower the tortellini themselves.

Later that week, when we finally cooked the tortellini, we each spooned some into our bowls and topped it off with some good old Parmigiano. I let it cool for a minute or so before taking my first bite. And then, as I slurped a little tortellino off the spoon, using my teeth to shave off some of the Parmigiano that had congealed and stuck to the metal, I found my Italian comfort food.

From then on, every time I went to the grocery store, whether it was with my housemates or alone, I found myself grabbing a bag or a little single-serve case of tortellini from the shelf. It quickly became an essential, a food I could prepare during my busiest nights that would never let me down. It gave me much-needed energy during my two week-long battle with mono, and it always felt like a healthier alternative to ramen with a side of scrambled eggs, which was a college staple of mine. No matter how much I ate it, tortellini in brodo never got old.

Sometimes, I’d branch out and try a different variety besides Rana. Doc, my favorite grocery store, always carried a fancy, Bologna-based brand I would occasionally splurge on. Every time I bought them, I could taste the difference in quality, and so, after a year of tortellini-eating, I knew I had to try the real stuff.

But finding tortellini in brodo in Bologna is much harder than you might think — at least it was for us.

In October of the following year, Sabi and I took a day trip to Bologna. It was a Sunday, and we took an early-morning train from Rome, arriving in the city around 10 a.m. We had nothing planned, besides climbing the Asinelli tower and finding a restaurant where I could eat tortellini in brodo and she could eat tagliatelle al ragù.

But it was a Sunday, and in Italy, everybody and their mother goes out for lunch on Sunday. So by the time all the trattorie opened up at noon, we found it pretty much impossible to find one that had an empty table.

We frantically searched on Google Maps to find somewhere, anywhere, that looked decent and had the two dishes we were looking for. Each time we found one, though, we arrived to find that there was no space. “Mi dispiace, ragazze!” over and over. We were stressed, but it’s impossible to be too stressed in a city as beautiful as Bologna; as we speed-walked past each pumpkin-colored building, we basked in its charm, our stomachs growing louder by the minute.

Around 2:30, when many of the restaurants were closing up shop, we found a trattoria that was open a little later than most. I didn’t even take note of the name or where, exactly, it was. All that mattered was that they had a table for us. I was too excited to try my beloved comfort food in the city of its origin.

And it was perfect.

A welcoming walk

I arrived in Rome early this week after a whole summer spent in New England. I had been itching to go back to Rome for a while; moving back home after being on my own for months was certainly not the easiest thing.

Don’t get me wrong: I’m glad I was able to go home, since next summer will likely be filled with internships, more work, and other opportunities amongst my friends. The one thing they don’t usually mention about growing up is how much it sucks not regularly seeing the people you’re so used to seeing every day, so I try not to take it for granted anymore — even though it isn’t what it used to be, and likely never will be again.

Suckiness aside, though: I’m so happy to be back in Italy. So much has happened since the last time I was here, yet it feels like I never left. Being in the same apartment definitely has something to do with that, but even after my walk around the city today, it feels like nothing has changed but the weather. It’s funny, cause when I go back home, I hate the fact that nothing has changed. Here, for some reason, it’s quite comforting.

I woke up around 9:30 but actually got out of bed around 10:30. (I thought I’d “beat” jet-lag this time around, but I’m writing this at 1 a.m. and feel more awake than I’ve felt all day.) I have not had a true moment alone in over two weeks, and I think I’ve been slowly dying because of that. On the plane, all I could think about was how excited I was to go on a walk to all my favorite places in the city, by myself, with no one to entertain or talk to or follow. I could turn around and go to that store if I wanted to, or stay a little extra longer at the bar, or get an ice cream before eating lunch. To me, solo travel and exploration is the epitome of freedom.

This morning, though, once I finally had the opportunity to go out alone, I completely froze. I did everything I could to avoid leaving the apartment. I began to worry I might have forgotten all of my Italian, and that I wouldn’t be able to communicate how I used to. I began to worry that I wouldn’t wear the right outfit in this 90-degree heat. I began to worry that I’d forget how to get to my favorite places, and that I’d lost everything I’d learned here. But after an hour of procrastination in the form of outfit changes and random chores, I walked down four flights of stairs and entered the Eternal City.

My first stop was at one of the bars in my neighborhood. I went in with the intention of having a coffee but instead ordered an iced tea, because after walking less than a quarter of a mile, I was already drenched in sweat. I drank the tea and ate a small but delicious pastry — some sweet, square-shaped cornetto with pecans on top. I paid for it and began walking towards the center of the city, purposely choosing the paths that were shaded by apartment buildings to avoid the sun as much as I could.

I wanted to get a few things for my bedroom, so I went to Flying Tiger, which is basically like a European version of 5 Below, except everything is 10x cuter and there are various things that are more than 5 euros. I bought two small picture frames, a mirror, and a mini USB fan for my desk.

After that, I stopped in La Feltrinelli, an Italian bookstore chain. I walked in with no intention of buying any books, since I spent almost 30 dollars on books at the Book Barn back in Connecticut just the week before. Instead, my intention was to get a break from the heat since it was air conditioned. I also wanted to check out the upstairs cafe that I’d heard about last semester but never visited.

In the cafe, there were people doing work on computers and people reading books. You don’t see that much here; eating and working do not really mix in Italy. It was comforting, though, since it’s so common back home to do work in cafes and coffee shops. I decided that I’d definitely come back to work on homework once I actually have homework to do next week.

I scanned the menu of drinks and random food items and immediately noticed that they had caffe’ shakerato, which is like a coffee cocktail without the alcohol. They mix espresso and ice and sugar and it becomes all foamy and sweet. They even filled the bottom with some chocolate sauce, and I drank every last drop. It’s a summertime drink here, and I didn’t know it existed until I saw photos of it on Instagram immediately after I left Rome in May. It was delicious, and I’m surely going to be ordering them for as long as I can.

The woman who made it was so sweet, and she made me realize that everyone I had interacted with thus far had been extremely kind. I talk about this a lot with my friends, how Americans are often seen as super nice and helpful (especially in retail-related positions), but a lot of it comes off as artificial. Normally, in Italy, I notice how it is very different in that way: no cashier will ever ask you how you are. But some will call you tesoro, and wish you a buona giornata. Some will even use formal pronouns, responding to grazie with a lei. There’s no need for unnecessary small-talk — to me, that is what creates the synthetic feeling. I’d been surrounded by much of that all summer, which is why I especially noticed the kindness today. Italians can be cold at times, so when they are not, it feels 10x more special.

After the bookstore, I had to make a stop at Piazza Navona, just down the street. It is my favorite piazza in all of Rome, and I have so many memories here. The very first time I visited Rome, in 2019, I remember admiring the great big Bernini fountain in the center. I took so many up-close photographs of it, and every time I’d look at pictures from that trip, I’d sigh in hopes that I could return.

When I did return last summer, long-term, my first real solo trip outside of the apartment was to Piazza Navona. Being back felt full-circle then, and it felt full-circle today, too. Since then, I’ve taken visitors there, I’ve celebrated my birthday there, and I’ve silently weeped there on various occasions, because I am extremely dramatic. From now on, my life may be measured in trips to Piazza Navona.

This time was lovely as always, but it was more crowded than ever. I dodged so many tour groups, avoided so many people trying to sell fans and umbrellas, and I walked through it a little faster than usual, since the entire 270 meter-long square is not shaded in the least.

The end goal of today’s walk was to buy shampoo, because I made a horrible mistake and accidentally bought body wash and conditioner instead of shampoo and conditioner (I am flipping off Trader Joe’s for packaging them in the same exact bottle). My hair is a pain in the ass, and it always has a hard time adjusting to the water and the climate here. Last semester, I found a decent shampoo at Naturasi, which is a natural food store I like to call the Italian version of Whole Foods. I went to the one near Campo de’ Fiori, enjoying even more A.C., and bought some shampoo and a bouquet of lavender to decorate my room.

When I left, I decided I’d better get home since my bag was getting a bit heavy. I wanted to get a vase, though, since we didn’t really have any suitable ones in the apartment. I walked by Lela Casa, a small boutique of beautifully curated home goods right near Ponte Sisto. I have walked by this shop probably 50 times, if not more: this is a regular route I take when going to the center of the city. But every time I walk by, I have a reason not to go inside: it’s too expensive, I’m with someone who will not want to go, or I simply do not have the time.

Today, though, it felt like a sign from the universe to go inside. And I’m so glad I did.

The shop’s owner greeted me as she ran in and out, unpacking a delivery that was left on the street. She was the sweetest person I’d interacted with all day, assuring me that she’d come back inside if I needed help or if I was finished. I browsed the dainty linens and colored glassware for a while, eventually picking out a small glass vase for my lavender. After telling her I had finished, she responded with arrivo! and quickly made her way behind the counter. She asked if it was a gift or for myself, and I understood the question, but for some reason it took me longer than usual to figure out a response. Once I told her it was for me, she asked, smiling, if I was Italian.

As I continue to learn Italian, I have found that there is always a “drop-off” moment, where the other person will say something that catches me off guard and makes me think a little more than usual to respond. These moments usually follow with the native speaker asking if I am Italian, which sometimes leads to them switching to English. This time, though, she complimented me, speaking only her language the entire time, and telling me I had great pronunciation. I told her that I was still learning, and she reassured me that I was doing a good job as she wrapped up my vase.

It’s so strange, because at Tiger earlier in the day, I was contemplating buying one of their cheap, two euro vases because I had planned to get some sort of floral decoration. Something in me told me not to, and I know that if I had, I wouldn’t have had this interaction that made my entire day. I was so nervous to go out, mostly because of the language barrier, but today put me at ease and reminded me so much about why I love living here.

(And from now on, that shop is where I’ll go when I need a confidence boost.)

I walked around a bit after that, eventually heading back home but making sure to stop at Fatamorgana for the very best gelato in Rome. I had a cone of strawberry and apricot, topped with the best whipped cream, and I ate it in Piazza San Cosimato on a bench in the shade.

It was delicious, and it was the best lunch I’d had in a while.

When I got home, I framed some photos and placed the lavender into my new vase while sitting in front of the mini fan at my desk. I planned out the rest of my day, took a shower, ate some mozzarella, and got some work done. School starts next week, and I’m very excited to get back into a routine — but I gotta say, after today, il dolce far niente is my favorite way to live life.

A day in Florence

But first, a song for you, because Florence, Italy isn’t the only Florence I love.

Last time I visited Florence, I left knowing I’d come back. There’s something about this city — its easy accessibility from Rome; its not-too-overwhelming size; its location in relation to the rest of Tuscany; and, obviously, its food — that keeps me thinking about it and wanting to return.

Yesterday, I did, along with my friend Lauren. We spent the day in beautiful Firenze, and I was able to see parts of the city I hadn’t seen last year.

I think I’ll always have a special place in my heart for Florence because it was the first solo trip I ever took. And whenever I think about doing another solo trip (which is quite often), it’s the place that always comes to mind and that always makes me eager to travel again.

We left Roma Termini around 8:30 a.m and arrived at Santa Maria Novella station at around 10:00 a.m. Lauren had never been to Florence, so I made a pretty detailed itinerary to ensure that we’d hit all the must-see spots I was familiar with, while also seeing some places I hadn’t been able to check out last year.

Our first stop was Caffè Gilli, the oldest cafe in Florence which I visited last time and loved. It’s definitely not the cheapest breakfast spot, but it is so special, and the service is wonderful. I feel like I’m watching a choreographed dance as waiters juggle trays of gorgeous pastries, or baristas effortlessly froth milk for cappuccini.

Here’s what we got: for Lauren, un cornetto al cioccolato & una ciocolatta calda, and for me, un bombolone (the pastry I eat pretty much every day for breakfast that I will miss so dearly this summer) & un cappuccino.

After breakfast, we headed out to see some of the must-see sights in the historical center of Florence.

In my bedroom in Rome, I am constantly looking out the window down at the street. I watch people walk as they head to work or to school or to the bar, and it’s rare that anyone actually looks up. So I try and look up as much as I can, when I remember, and it’s always fun to spot fellow people-watchers.

We walked towards Piazza del Duomo and it became immediately clear that tourist season has begun. I wish I counted how many tour groups we saw throughout the day; it had to be at least 10.

This entire piazza is unreal. The tickets to enter the main structures are a little pricey, but next time I visit I need to tour all three of the masterpieces: the cupola, the duomo, and the bell tower.

After admiring the piazza, we made our way towards another one: Piazza della Signoria, which is home to a bunch of statues and Palazzo Vecchio.

This one is the one that always holds a spot in the back of my mind: Rape of the Sabines by Giambologna.

I’ve got a thing for taking photos of empty or half-finished drinks people leave on the sidewalks very often here in Italy. Here’s a recently-finished spritz.

And here’s a pretty much perfect row of vespas.

I’ll admit, whenever I travel, I always do more research about the food than the actual historical aspects. Before returning to Florence this time, I did even more research about Tuscan and Florentine cuisine. I had some pretty incredible food experiences here last year, so I wanted to make sure I could say the same this time.

I had already tried one of the famous Florentine street foods, the lampredotto panino, which is made with meat from the fourth stomach of the cow. I loved it, and I knew that I had to find another great panino this time.

I found two places that were highly-rated amongst Italians and ended up going with this place, I Fratellini. You know when you just know the restaurant you chose was the right one? Yeah, I knew that this was the right one the very second I stopped in front of it. The line out the door said enough, but the small, hole-in-the-wall vibe was the selling point.

Customers are encouraged to grab a paper menu while they wait in line so no time is lost once they get to the register. I eyed the extensive menu filled with panini (all of them priced at four euro): prosciutto, mozzarella, tonno, finocchiona, porchetta, mortadella… I felt more indecisive than I’ve ever felt in my entire life.

I alternated between three panini for about five minutes, and then decided to go with the very first one on the menu, since they said it was one of their specialties. It was a panino of prosciutto crudo, crema di formaggio, & rucola (prosciutto, soft cheese, and arugula).

I ordered it at the small storefront, where one man was taking orders and running the register, and another was preparing drinks. There must have been a kitchen somewhere in the back where some extremely hardworking people were cranking out panini by the minute.

The second I took a bite, I knew that there is no bad panino at this place: anything I ordered was bound to be delicious.

The bread was tough but not too much that it was hard to bite into. The prosciutto was slightly stringy and perfectly salty, and the cheese — oh, my god. It was like a cream cheese, but it had the texture of chèvre, and it was like heaven. I wish you could taste it. And I wish I could eat it every single day.

From there, Lauren and I split up for a little while. She wanted to see the Statue of David, which I saw last time, so I got to roam around a bit on my own. I wanted to check out the Mercato Centrale, so I walked about 15 minutes to get there.

It’s basically two floors of foodie heaven. The top floor felt like an extremely elevated mall food court. It was crazy busy, so I decided not to get anything there. If I lived in Florence, though, I know exactly where I’d be doing my shopping.

Next, I stopped by Bar Vivoli for some much-needed gelato.

I was considering trying a new gelateria to break from routine since this is the one I’d visited last year. However, Vivoli makes some of the very best gelato I’ve ever tasted, so naturally, I had to come back. I had to get the same flavors, too: pera e caramella & fragola. Perhaps this will be a Florence tradition for me: it’s just too damn good not to visit every time.

The pear/caramel combo is insane, and while Fatamorgana here in Rome is hard to beat, Vivoli’s pear is slightly sweeter, which I love. There are bits of caramel flakes that create the most complex texture with the slightly-grainy pear. I can’t get enough of this flavor, so I do not regret playing it safe.

It’s also the most charming little gelateria ever. I love the neon cursive font.

This church, Chiesa del Santi Simone e Giuda, is right across from Vivoli. Lauren met back up with me, and we decided to step in and check it out. We had the whole place to ourselves, so we took advantage and rested a few minutes inside. I cannot believe that I can just walk into places that date back to the 1100s here — and that they still look this beautiful.

This elaborate wood ceiling stopped me in my tracks. It also happens to feature my favorite color.

After exploring the church and resting for a bit, we began to walk towards the river. We walked through the Uffizi Gallery’s piazza where tons of artists had their pieces for sale outside.

I wasn’t too eager to see Ponte Vecchio again, but it felt necessary to show it to Lauren. It’s one of the busiest and most touristy places in all of the city, but its history is quite cool.

I do think it’s more fun to look at it from afar, though; after all, you can’t see the bridge and all its beauty while on the bridge.

We walked over the Arno and began a longer stroll towards Piazzale Michelangelo. I’d wanted to check this out last time but decided against it, and honestly, I’m glad I waited! It was more fun with another person, cause walking a million stairs and steep hills isn’t so fun to do alone (mostly because there’s no one to complain with).

The weather was so perfect, so even though this was a pretty intense uphill climb, it was just nice to be in the sun. And, of course, the view let me know that it was 100% worth it…

Like, come on! Florence is a painting and a poem and a fairytale all squished into one city.

Here’s another with a horizontal view. I spotted a church a little further up the piazzale, and we decided that (somehow) we could bear to do some more climbing.

This is what I had spotted and what we checked out for a little while: Abbazia di San Miniato al Monte. The inside boasted some gorgeous frescoes, but I am so impressed by the facade. Its green and white marble is very reminiscent of the structures in the Piazza del Duomo.

And here’s me, smiling at literally no one.

(Also, I’m no fashion blogger, but I must say: this skirt is one of my favorite things I’ve ever thrifted. I found it a few years ago at Salvation Army for only three dollars.)

After taking photos and resting inside the abbey, we walked down all the hills and stairs and paid one euro to use the public bathroom. I wanted to show Lauren Piazza Santo Spirito since it was one of my favorite places I’d visited last time. We walked quite a bit and had aperitivo there. I didn’t take any photos, but we ate some of my beloved pappa al pomodoro alongside some drinks before walking back over the river for dinner.

I made a reservation at Trattoria Marione Al Trebbio for 7:00 p.m., which is quite early for Italian standards. They had just re-opened for dinner, so we were one of the first to sit down. I was very proud of this restaurant selection, which I found last-minute but had a good feeling about.

As we ate, a huge group of Americans, likely on a food tour, sat at a long table behind us. Their accents sounded very Bostonian, which was so funny to listen to. One woman, who was extremely loud and Lois Griffin-esque, said, as the table clinked wine glasses, “When in Rome… or, when in Florence!” to which the entire table responded with a cacophony of laughs and howls. It was quite funny, and I felt, just for a second, like I was back in the states.

I ordered la ribollita, which is a classic Tuscan bread soup, similar to the texture of pappa al pomodoro. I don’t even know how to describe it, other than the fact that it is the most flavorful mix of vegetables and beans and bread. I’ve been dying to try it, and wow was it good. It’s always the least photogenic dishes that taste the best. But seriously — I am so excited to learn how to make it and to eat it again someday.

Also, as seen, a glass of Chianti, because even though it’s not my favorite… you can’t go to Tuscany and not drink Chianti!

Following dinner, which didn’t take nearly as long as I thought, we strolled a little more around the historical center and then eventually made our way back to the train station. I bought some chocolate at Venchi, the only storefront that was still open inside Santa Maria Novella, and we waited for about an hour for our train to arrive at 9:43.

I read on the train so that I wouldn’t fall asleep. A man next to me observed some sheet music on his laptop and played air piano with his fingers. And after an hour and a half, we were back in Rome.

I am really happy with how the day turned out. My itinerary was pretty much followed to a T! We saw everything we wanted to see, and I ate everything I wanted to eat. We walked around 30,000 steps in total, but it was totally worth it. I feel so lucky to be able to take day trips to such incredible places.

Ti amo tanto, Firenze… a presto. ❤