Travel – Studio Josie

Recent Eats: Prague

The food in Prague gets better each time I visit. I haven’t even scratched the surface in terms of the city’s best places to eat, but I’m slowly chipping away at my massive list — especially these days, as I’ll be here for the remainder of June.

Exhibit A is Artic Bakehouse, an Icelandic bakery with five locations throughout the city.

They specialize in breads, particularly sourdough, and Nordic-style pastries. I’ve yet to have something bad at Artic. Even their sandwiches, which range from a pesto grilled cheese to a spicy, jalapeno-infused tuna salad — both on sourdough — are incredible.

Brooke and I are slowly eating our way through the bakery and usually devour whatever we’ve ordered before I have any time to take a photo (i.e. their incredibly buttery peanut butter cookie). But here are two. Note that they are both half-eaten.

And their monkey muffin, which is basically just monkey bread in some paper wrapping.

Next, last Saturday, I took a trip to Prague’s weekly farmers market. I’d been once or twice before, and it’s a really special market. They’ve got everything from fresh produce to meats, cheeses, oysters and champagne, fresh baked goods, and traditional Czech dishes — all served on little to-go trays to enjoy under the sun (or clouds) beside the Vltava River. There are always a few artisans selling their handmade items, and there’s a great musician named Tony Rose who serenades the whole thing with his country-twinged acoustic sound.

It’s impossible for me to decide what to eat at places like this, where there are so many options, so I made myself get the first thing that intrigued me. That day, it was these: obložené chlebíčky, Czech open-faced sandwiches.

They were invented in the early 20th century in Prague, during the First Czechoslovak Republic, by a man named Jan Paukert, a deli owner. Painter Jan Skramlík, who was painting Paukert’s wine cellar, asked him to make something bigger than a canapé, something of “two or three bites,” rather than one– and the rest is history. He began to sell them in his deli and they were a success. Today, chlebíčky are found all around the Czech Republic in delis and cafes.

They are traditionally made with veka, Czech white bread, and are topped with a wide range of ingredients from mayonnaise to ham to potato salads and beetroot spread. They’re sort of like the Czech version of Scandinavian smørrebrød, or Italian bruschetta: a small burst of flavor, always sure to satisfy.

I spotted a stand at the farmer’s market that had a variety of them. I’ve been wanting to try these for a long time, so I pulled out a hundred crowns (equivalent to $4.39 / 4.05 EUR) and ordered two.

The purple one is, of course, a beetroot spread with horseradish. It was topped with some micro greens and a baby pickled onion. The horseradish provided just the kick I needed to start my farmer’s market crawl. The green one is a parsley remoulade topped with shaved carrots and some pumpkin seeds and greens. I liked this one the most and would love to try to recreate that delicious, peppery remoulade.

While I ate my chlebíčky, I stood beside a stand that was frying vdolky — sweet, doughy cakes — in a big vat of oil. The smell was tempting enough; for a moment, I felt like I was at a fair back in the States, ready to indulge in all the fried food my body could handle.

The same stand also had a variety of different štrúdl, but I went for a vdolek. They’re like little fried dough balls, and they aren’t filled with anything, like you may expect. Instead, they’re topped with some sort of jam and some sort of cheese or cream; the one I had was topped with tvaroh, or quark cheese.

Fresh vdolky topped with blueberry jam & quark cheese.

Vdolek with strawberry jam and quark cheese.

I got one of the last strawberry ones, because I was tempted by the fresh strawberry on top (the strawberries here right now are really good). I was by myself and was a bit worried that it’d be too rich and I wouldn’t be able to finish it — but looking back, this fear was just my persistent preparation to feel like absolute s!&% following any sweet (thanks, America).

I devoured it, and I almost ordered a second. Because they’re yeast-raised, they are so, so light. They aren’t overly sweet, either. It was the perfect dessert to follow my savory chlebíčky.

Brooke is preparing for exams and her thesis defense, so I’ve been accompanying her to an array of cafes every day. Prague has so many of them that it’s often hard to pick which one to go to. But we both have our favorites.

mamacoffee is one, particularly their location in New Town.

I love their coffee (and they serve it in the cutest cups), but I was feeling ginger tea on this visit. I tried their pastry with tempeh and carrot and potato, and it was lovely and reminiscent of Thanksgiving.

Cafedu is another favorite and the best one for getting work done since they are, technically, a study-cafe. We were on an iced dirty chai kick for a while, and their blueberry crumble cake is literally what dreams are made of…on my last day here, I’m going to beg their staff for the recipe because it’s actually ridiculous how good it is.

KRO Kitchen is a recent discovery. In Vinohrady, their cafe has a big window that opens up when the weather’s nice. The view into the street is simple but lovely, occupied by the occasional red tram that passes by, and garnished by a bit of greenery.

Their coffee’s okay, but their pastries are unmatched. We tried this strawberry cream pastry, which reminded me of the strawberry cream brioche at my beloved Marigold, back in Rome.

Perhaps the best for last is Version. They don’t have the best food, but I can’t get enough of their coffee. I have to force myself to savor it and not chug it because it’s that good. Plus, the vibe in there is always perfect for studying.

Another honorable mention is Dos Mundos. It’s a coffee roaster that supplies many of the local coffee shops, but I finally checked out one of their cafes up in Prague 7 a few days ago, and it was a cute little spot.

Don’t worry, now; I eat more than just sweets. (Though I mostly eat sweets.)

I eat burgers and fries, too!

For real, though, we went out for dinner at Dish, a super popular burger place in Vinohrady, and I tried their veggie burger. We got watermelon spritzes and garlic fries, too.

I’m always delighted when places make veggie burgers with care and don’t just throw a Beyond Burger on the grill and call it a day. This one was made with sweet potatoes and chickpeas – how cool! It was great, and the cucumber sour cream spread was super fresh-tasting.

I was doing some research on Prague 7 the other day, and I came across Dim Sum Spot. Immediately, I began to crave dumplings and knew I had to go after my breakfast at Dos Mundos. They had a really interesting selection of vegetarian ones to choose from.

I ordered two types: one was tofu with chili oil and peanuts (a little too spicy for me, but still delicious), and the other was potato with fried onion and parsley (10/10!!). They also had an extensive tea list, and I ordered some jasmine tea.

And last but not least, we went out for a few Czech appetizers and beers at Mlsnej Kocour. We split a side of horseradish pancakes and a selection of mini Czech sausages — both of which tasted great with our Kozel.

That’s all for today. I’m feeling really lucky that I’m able to stay in Prague for the next few weeks and that I’ve been able to enjoy some of the best food it has to offer now that I have some free time to explore. It’s really an incredible city, and I hope you can visit someday.

If you want to see more of what I’ve been eating / what I’ve been up to, check out my food page on Instagram for more. And if you’re heading to Prague anytime soon, check out my Prague food guide, which I am constantly adding to!

Happy Saturday, and happy June, and happy pride!

Perfect Day

My idea of a perfect day begins here, in Piazza Santo Spirito.

It’s my favorite piazza in all of Italy, and it’s one I hold close to my heart.

24 hours in Český Krumlov

We stepped off the train and found our way out of the station, and just like that: silence.

There’s nothing more satisfying than escaping the city and visiting a small town by train. Something about doing the same by car just isn’t the same, and it’s something I miss so much when I’m in the States. I find the train to be a far more powerful liminal space than a car. Maybe it’s because you can’t open the window to remember life outside. Or maybe it’s because you have far less control over where you’re going. Whatever it may be, I find train travel to be the most pleasurable thing for this reason alone.

I’ve visited the Czech Republic countless times now, but last month, Brooke and I decided to finally venture outside of Prague. You can’t blame us: Prague is an enchanting city. But we’d been wanting to visit Český Krumlov for forever, so we finally made it happen.

Daydreams of Venice

The Grand Canal from the Rialto Bridge. March 2022.

It’s been almost a year since I visited Venice, and I can’t get it off my mind.

So much so that I’ve been scouring the Internet for train tickets and places to stay all week. In between schoolwork, I’ve been slowly planning a trip to return during the weekend of my 21st birthday in April, and I can’t wait.

I thought I’d write a bit of a piece about the single day I spent in Venice last March with a couple of my friends from university, since I never shared anything about it here. It was one of the greatest and most memorable days of my life — and it was the first time I felt the “love at first sight” feeling for a place.

Before I begin, I’d like to credit pretty much all of my knowledge of Venetian culture, life, and history to my friend and roommate, Sabi. She is one of the most passionate people I know, and her knowledge, and pride for Veneto as an Italian region is surely one of the reasons why I loved Venice so much. She showed us around, fed us the best food, and she patiently let us all take in one of the most magical places on Earth — and I will be forever grateful! Andiamo…

If I told you I was completely sober on this day, I’d simply be lying to you.

In Venice, they say, you must do as the Venetians do — and the Venetians drink. This I quickly learned, as we ordered our first glasses of wine at 11 in the morning.

We’d just taken a bus ride from Lido di Jesolo, where we were staying, and were hungry for some cicchetti, small bites and snacks that are an important part of Venetian cuisine. We found a bacaro, a Venetian wine bar, pretty shortly after exiting the bus, and ordered some small bites: fried eggplant and zucchini flowers, fried seafood, and small sandwiches of various sliced meat.

“Do you want a drink?” Sabi yelled from across the bar. It was empty, except for our group of six. She had just ordered cicchetti, and the waiter must have asked her for our drink order.

This is what brunch looks like in Venice.

And so, along with our food came six glasses of white wine. Though in Venice, a glass of wine is called an ombra, which is the Italian word for shadow.

According to Venetian legend, when wine was served in Piazza San Marco — the city’s most famous piazza — wine vendors would use shadows of the bell tower to keep the wine cool. Overtime, ombra became the word Venetians used as they’d gather in the square, drinking ombre underneath the ombra.

Needless to say, we started the day on a good note.

We stumbled and wandered and got lost in the maze that is Venezia. We had nowhere to be, so we just explored.

It’s weird, because Venice is one of those places everyone sees photos of, over and over and over again. I thought I’d be unimpressed, having liked and saved my fair share of Venice canal photos on Pinterest over the years. But I was anything but unimpressed — it is far more special than I could have imagined.

Gorgeous, typical Venetian sweets from the window of a *pasticceria.*

We’d been walking for over an hour, and there was no end in sight, seeing as walking is the most efficient way to get around the city.

Sabi, being the resident tour guide, took us to a true local gem: Cantina Do Mori. It’s an incredible wine bar that’s been around since 1462 — the oldest bacaro in Venice.

The interior is slightly dark and cavelike, and the ceiling is lined with copper kettles. It’s “standing room only,” so locals and tourists drink wine and munch on the famous cicchetti while standing at the bar or around the few tables in the back.

Some of the legendary cicchetti at Cantina Do Mori

It was lunchtime, so we ordered some small bites and, of course, some wine to go with it. We stood at the bar, and despite the slightly busy atmosphere, I had never been more relaxed: this place was oddly comforting. I could feel the passion for food and drink in the air, and I’d never experienced anything quite like it.

I’m normally a vino rosso type of gal, but I had some of the best vino bianco on this day.

Paired with it was a selection of snacks, including a francobollo, the Italian word for stamp, due to its tiny, stamp-like look. This is what the bar calls these tramezzini-type sandwiches, and they’re filled with sliced meats and vegetables and cheeses.

Other cicchetti included baccalà mantecato, cod with garlic & parsley & oil on toasted bread, and capo di toro — yup, I had my first taste of tongue.

And then, minutes later, I had my very first taste of octopus.

A mini octopus, seconds before I tried a bite.

The wine helped, for sure. But also, I’d never seen half of these foods before, and I had no idea what most of them were. I didn’t know if I’d ever get a chance to come back here, so I put on my bravery badge, scratched the vegetarian title, and Anthony Bourdain-ed it.

It was pretty good, too! I’ve had octopus a few more times since then, and I am happy to report that I like it. I prefer it cooked, but… I like it.

(Now someone keep me from reading this book, which has been on my to-read list for a while. I know that once I do, I’ll likely never eat another one again.)

Five gelatos later (six total — I’m not that crazy), we stopped at another bar for, yup, another drink. This time, a spritz.

The spritz is everywhere these days. On my first trip to Prague last September, the entire escalator down to the metro was lined with ads for Aperol. And yet, apparently, it is nowhere to be found, back in the states!

In Venice, though, the spitz is around every corner — it’s a Veneto creation!

It was invented in the 1800s, when Italian regions Lombardia and Veneto were combined and ruled by the Austrian Empire. Austrian diplomats, merchants, and workers weren’t used to the strength of the Veneto wine (which is some of the best) — so they began to water it down.

Eventually, they graduated to carbonated water, and the spritz (spritzen meaning “splash” in German) became more of what it is today.

It wasn’t until 1920, though, that the Spritz Veneziano was born, after Select, a bitter, was invented and added to the drink. So, the real Spritz is not made with Aperol, but with Select… but it’s still just as delicious, if not more so.

So we drank our Spritzes at a little tiny bar outside of Bacaro Risorto Castello, sitting on the crooked bar stools alongside the busy Campo S. Provolo. They even had a bathroom we could use — a rarity in Venice. It was a good day.

It was the end of March then, so the sunset felt never-ending until we sat down and watched it quickly lower itslf, touching the lagoon at lightning speed.

One of my favorite memories from this day was just this — la dolce far niente. We had been walking all day, and our legs were tired, so we sat along the lagoon underneath the setting sun.

As we watched water taxis speed by, creating tiny waves, more and more people started to sit along the lagoon. Groups of friends, couples, locals, and tourists — everyone, in the same place, for the same purpose: to soak in the last moments of sun.

As we watched the sunset, we ate ice cream from Gelateria Nico, ordering the legendary “Gianduiotto” — a square of gianduja ice cream (chocolate/hazlenut) with a heaping spoonful of homemade whipped cream. Another great food recommendation courtesy of Sabi, and one of the best things we ate that day. (Plus, check out the amazing typography on the cups!)

We talked and laughed and licked ice cream from our lips for what felt like forever. I remember looking at the sun every few minutes, noticing how quickly it was setting all of a sudden. Pretty soon, it was gone completely: the only light left came from the streetlights behind us.

We stayed for another two hours or so, wandering the streets at dusk and admiring the city from a new angle, free of sunlight.

Before catching the traghetto (water taxi) back to the mainland, we ate a quick pizza dinner at a pretty shitty touristy restaurant. It was what was nearby, and we just needed something in our stomachs to survive until the next morning.

A mediocre meal often puts a damper on my day, as it should… but that day, all I could think about was how happy I was. Call me dramatic, but I remember thinking to myself, on multiple occasions: If today was my last day on Earth, I would be completely satisfied.

There were not-so-amazing parts and there were parts I guess I would eliminate, but that’s how life always is, and I’d want my last day to be a perfect representation of life. This day was just that: food, friends, travel, color, & sunshine. It’s all I need, and it’s all I crave — every single day.

Alla prossima, Venezia!

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.