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.

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.

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 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. ❤

Postcards from Italy — August 26, 2021

[Queue this song.]

I’ve arrived in sunny and sweaty Roma, where I will begin (and hopefully end) my undergraduate college degree.

I’ve been here since Monday, but a mix of orientation activities / exhaustion / hesitation to leave my apartment has prohibited me from exploring by myself, until yesterday.

After a meeting at the school, I decided to wander, with no plan or route in mind. Since yesterday, I had only been out with school groups and with my roommate, so it was nice to be alone for a couple of hours. The week had been filled with mingling/get-to-know-each-other activities, all of which have been horribly exhausting for my introverted brain, so the next few hours were a much-needed recharge.

I wasn’t planning to be out for more than a few minutes, but it was oh, so, hot that, naturally, I began to crave gelato. I walked and walked and walked and eventually made it over the bridge that overpasses the Tevere, or the Tiber River — the third-longest in Italy.

I passed by a few gelato shops, but decided to keep going and make up a route to explore some of the city I hadn’t been to. Here are some of the things I saw:

La Fontana dell’Acqua Paola, built in 1612. It’s very reminiscent (albeit much smaller in size) of La Fontana di Trevi, which sits on the other side of the Tevere.

This building looks like it belongs in New York!

I love street art, and this made me laugh.

Walking over the Tevere. I tried my best to capture the color of the water here because it was so blue and beautiful.

There is so much graffiti here. More than I’ve ever seen anywhere else.

I wish the mailboxes in the US were this charming. Italian design is on a whole different level.

And that concludes my first set of Postcards from Italy. I am going to try my best to post these once a week.

I am kind of in shock that I’m even here. The first few days were tough. I was feeling super homesick and confused and scared. I couldn’t even listen to music because it reminded me too much of home, and of driving in my car, and of my friends, and of everything that’s so far away from me —

— but as time goes on and the days continue to pass, I realize that those things are all still there; here, I get to be apart of new things I’ll surely miss when I’m home. It’s pretty cool how many little worlds we can create for ourselves everywhere we go.

Alla prossima!