Friday, October 11
Firenze, Firenze, Toscana
Highlight: Fantastic afternoon and dinner out
Lowlight: So many f*cking Americans
I awoke in Ferrara having once again got very little sleep. Besides the torment of the mosquitos in our apartment, I was probably agonizing about turning in the rental car. Today would be the day that we would drive from Ferrara to our final vacation stop in Firenze. We'd drive the A13 to Bologna and then take the now familiar A1 autostrada from Bologna through the mountains to just northwest of Firenze. We'd then drop the rental car back where we got it at the airport, take a shuttle bus from the rental car center to the terminal, and then take the tram into downtown Firenze and find our apartment.
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| Firenze: Cattedrale della Santa Maria del Fiore |
Our trip is coming to an end, and quickly. We talked about it last night. This vacation has been a few flashes of brilliance coupled with a lot of torment and boredom, not at all what I expected from my first trip to Italy. Lots of it has been trying. And we have survived it. Survived it as a couple, I mean. This kind of vacation will rip your relationship apart if it is not solid. By this yardstick, ours is undeniably solid. And we are ready for home. Three weeks is a long trip.
We wanted to leave Ferrara as late as possible in the hopes that we could get into our apartment in Firenze immediately so that we did not have to worry about luggage as we navigated the streets of the capital of Toscana. So, we stuck it out in Ferrara until 11, the deadline for checking out. When we tried to leave, we could not get enough signal to get a GPS route on our phones. So, I started walking downtown to get the free WiFi to plot a route. Ann texted me once I was almost there that she managed to get a route so I walked the 10 minutes back to the apartment and we got underway. This Internet problem is a pain in the butt.
At one point in leaving Ferrara, the GPS wanted us to turn right but which of the three possibilities we should take was unclear. I assumed that following the bulk of the traffic was likely correct. But while stopped at a red light, I realized we were going wrong. I could get on the correct course if I moved right a lane and took a quick, sharp right. And as I was so doing, I saw two carabinieri standing there, one of whom gave me the WTF are you doing sign. In my best Italian driver style, I shrugged him off and kept accelerating through the gear box.
The trip to Bologna and then through the mountains was routine. At some point, we stopped at an AutoGrill alongside the autostrada to use the facilities. I have to say that the AutoGrills are pretty amazing. You can get fast food, coffee, gelato, a sit down meal, tourist schlock, groceries, and all manner of other things there and people swear by the quality of the food. This mirrors my experience in France that the truckstops have really decent food. Among the food stuffs for sale at this particular AutoGrill were whole salame, fresh pasta, and boxed pasta. I saw a bunch of boxes of oversized bucatini in long blue DeCecco boxes; the pasta must have run 50cm long, a full half a meter!
I was wondering where in the vicinity of the airport to get diesel to refill the car before we turned it back in. It turned out to be a non-issue: there’s a service area just before the airport and the friendly attendant told me to pump first and pay inside. Easy peasy. I had already been to the rental car center to get the car, so navigating to it was easy. But finding an attendant was not, at least not in the location where Neal told me to drop the car. An attendant from another agency directed us to the correct location. Still, it took a few minutes to find an attendant. It's not like at American airports where you drop the car in a return lane, leave the keys inside, and walk away.
After that, we waited for the shuttle to the airport for just a few minutes. Once we got on the shuttle bus, we realized it was wall-to-wall with American college kids, a sign of things to come. The shuttle took a very convoluted 8-9 minutes to drop us 400 meters away at the terminal, located across the autostrada from the rental car center.
Catching the tram for the 20-minute ride into Firenze was simple enough; I had already noted the location of the airport tram stop just to the right of the terminal building when we arrived three weeks ago. The ticket machine was simple after dealing with those from TrenItalia. You merely buy a ticket for €1,70 which is good for 90 minutes after validating it on the tram and it is good for any destination and also I believe for transfers to buses.
Ann was a little concerned about our stop which our host had said was the main train station named Santa Maria Novella. However, Santa Maria Novella was not one of the names of the stops that our tram was making. We wanted the Alamanni stop; looking at the route map for the tram made it look like Alamanni was correct and we were able to verify that with another passenger. Likewise, the name of the airport stop on the way back was not Amerigo Vespucci but Peretola Aeroporto.
Our apartment was not supposed to be ready until 16:00, but it was ready when we arrived at 14:15 after dragging our luggage the two or so blocks from the station on rough cobblestones. We were highly fortunate to get inside just before a brief rain shower hit. It passed quickly but it was enough that we would have been soaked.
Our room was a great apartment on the third floor of a building downtown above a little trattoria. The steps were steep, ancient, and off kilter which made schlepping the suitcases up to our room a bit of a challenge, but the apartment was beautiful. Our host really thought of everything and was fantastic in texting us directions, advice, places to eat, and so forth. There was even a map of Florence on the wall in our room with his favorite walks marked, each with a theme, and cool places to visit highlighted. He even left exquisite pastries in our room; I would eat them for breakfast before heading back to the airport.
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| Our Host Left Pastries for Us; They Were Killer |
After the rain shower, the sun came out and shone brightly, encouraging us to take a walk about town. Firenze was one of the highlights of Ann's 1996 trip to Italy and she has been hyping it for months; I was naturally eager to see what she found so attractive about this medium-sized walkable city. I was looking forward to it being one of the highlights of our trip, our last hurrah before getting back on a plane for the seemingly interminable trip across the ocean.
From our apartment near the main Santa Maria Novella train station, we wandered in the direction of the Piazza del Duomo lured on by the stunning warm brown terracotta tiles of the duomo designed by Filippo Brunelleschi, the massive dome that we could glimpse here and there between and above buildings. We had not progressed more than a block or so in the direction of the duomo, when we encountered hordes of tourists, tourists so thick that we had at times to shoulder our way through.
My first impression was that I hate this town full of filthy rich Asians dripping in designer outfits and even more American kids with SoCal accents. I came to Italy to get away from America for a while, to get some perspective on my own country through the lens of another country, and yet, here we were surrounded by Americans. We heard almost exclusively English on the streets and almost no Italian at all. I felt that we were in some medieval-themed Disneyland full of Instagram wannabe-influencers with their noses firmly planted in their phones, not watching where they were going or even taking in the gorgeous architecture around them, when they were not busy filming themselves.
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| Carousel at the Piazza della Repubblica |
As we made our way toward what is known nearly universally as The Duomo, the full church, the Cattedrale della Santa Maria del Fiore, with its glorious campanile came into view. I've seen St. Patrick's in NYC, St. Paul's in London, Nôtre-Dame in Paris, and many other grand cathedrals, but none of this prepared me for the simplicity and the splendor of this cathedral in Florence. It is one of the most amazing buildings I have ever seen. The stonework in all colors of marble is unfathomable in this day and age.
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| Il Campanile di Giotto |
As I mentioned earlier, Ann came to Firenze in 1996 and took a bunch of photos including many of the Duomo. Below is a shot that I took on this trip; Ann took a similar one on her phone. After we returned to Oregon and she was going through her camera roll, she realized that she had taken an almost identical photo from nearly the exact same spot in 1996. I find that to be an amazing coincidence.
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| My 2024 Photo |
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| Side by Side of Ann's 1996 and 2024 Photos |
After enduring the obnoxious crowds of Americans at the Piazza del Duomo, we tried to escape by heading away from the cathedral. We were not really successful as we walked by one high-end designer boutique after another. Clearly, people come to Firenze to spend obscene amounts of money on extravagant
habillage and jewelery.
Our escape path led us by the Bargello and on towards the Arno River, where we found scads and scads of, you guessed it, more Americans.
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| Museo Nazionale del Bargello |
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| Pediment on the Palazzo di Giustizia |
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| Skyline of the Palazzo di Giustizia |
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Badia Fiorentina - Monastero
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| Interplay of Light and Shutters |
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| Torre Arnolfo at the Palazzo Vecchio |
Right at the river, we walked by the entrance to the Museo Galileo and its sundial, a wonderful public art installation. From here, we walked into the middle of the Uffizi Gallery, or rather, I elbowed my way into a sea of people. It was so crowded and the sun angle was so wrong, that I didn't even stop to take a photo. As much as I might like to have seen some of the collection at this museum, I would never put up with this kind of crowd to do so. We kept moving downstream along the Arno with the famed Ponte Vecchio in clear sight.
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| Annie Camps Out on Scorpio at the Galileo Sundial |
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| Upstream Side of the Ponte Vecchio |
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| Downstream Side of the Ponte Vecchio |
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Across the Arno: Campanile at the Basilica di Santo Spirito
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We did not go out on the Ponte Vecchio; it was wall-to-wall people. I am satisfied with having seen it at a distance, this, the only bridge across the Arno in Firenze not destroyed in the Second World War. Please do not hate me when I say that I did not find this famous bridge at all pleasing to my eye. I dare say I might even call it an eye sore, unlike the graceful Ponte alla Carraia just downriver.
During our walk, finding ourselves exasperated with the unruly crowds, we decided to seek out the wine bar that our host had recommended to us as being excellent and hidden away from tourists. Firenze provides some minimal free WiFi, so I was able to plug the wine bar location into my phone and navigate there. Our track would have us continue along the north side of the river beyond the Uffizi, past the Ponte alla Carraia, and to the Piazza Ognisanti and Chiesa di San Salvatore.
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Ann in Front of the Ponte alla Carraia
The Light Does Not Get Better Than This |
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| Chiesa di San Frediano |
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Chiesa di San Salvatore
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| Detail Above Door to San Salvatore |
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| Horse Drawn Carriage Near the Palazzo Lenzi |
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Interesting Shop Selling Paintings
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The enoteca we were aiming for, Nuova Vigna, is tucked away just at the foot of the Ponte alla Carraia such that it took us a moment of poking about to find it even when we were within 25 meters of the door. A young guy welcomed us into the store which looked confusingly like a cross between a wine shop, restaurant, and pasticceria. The spaces serves as a pasticceria in the day, a wine bar from the afternoon on, and a restaurant at night. We spent a wonderful couple of hours with the two guys there, one of whom is a sommelier. As we walked in and were considering the wine list, the younger guy asked, "Why not a glass of Prosecco?" Naturally, why not?
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Hide and Seek: Where is the Hidden Enoteca?
Left Fork, Left Corner, Behind the Optician |
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| Enoteca Vigna Nuova/Pasticceria Batoni |
Soon enough, two glasses of Prosecco appeared on the table and I took a quick sip of the €7 glass. You really cannot expect much from a glass pour of inexpensive Prosecco, can you? I was totally unprepared to have the best Prosecco of my life. I looked at Ann; she looked at me with that "Am I really tasting what I'm tasting?" look. Suddenly, tucked away in a little off-the-beaten-path enoteca with a glass of phenomenal wine in my hand, I was feeling much better disposed to the city of Firenze.
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| Suddenly, We Love Firenze! |
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| This is Excellent Prosecco |
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| Nebbiolo Anyone? |
We spent a fair amount of time chatting with the two guys and naturally we got to talking wine with the one who is a sommelier. We decided after the Prosecco that we wanted a red, preferably a Nebbiolo and he led us directly to this bottle of Langhe from Barale Fratelli in Barolo. It was a damn fine bottle of wine and went really well with the savory pastries that they brought us gratis. It was a shame to see, at the end of the day, that what leftover pastries the staff did not want had to go in the trash.
While at the enoteca, we started thinking about dinner and made a reservation at another host-recommended restaurant just down the street from our apartment, Il Bacaro Fiorentino. After resting at the apartment for a while, we made the 200-meter walk to Il Bacaro and were seated outside on the sidewalk just as the sun was setting. During the course of our 3-4 hour meal, it seemed to us that this is more of a locals restaurant than a tourist place. Also, it is clear that they take their food and wine seriously.
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| Frontman Endrit Devolli Behind his Cicchetti Counter |
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| Enjoying a Beautiful, Tourist-Free, Dinner |
Before it got busy, we chatted with frontman Endrit Devolli about all things restaurant as we sipped on an excellent bottle of Pira Barolo Serralunga d'Alba. Of all the
comune to produce Barolo, Serralunga is my favorite for power, structure (tannins and acidity), cherry fruit, and herbaceousness. Back to the restaurant, it seems to meld the concept of Venetian
bacaro (a tapas-style bar where the small dishes are called
cicchetti) with Florentine osteria. The dishes coming out of the kitchen, manned by veteran Venetian chef Luca Marin, were refined and probably the best meal we had in Italy.
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| Dynamite Pira Barolo Serralunga d'Alba |
Once the wine was on the table and we had had a chance to go through the menu, though we wanted everything on the menu, we ordered two antipasti, a terrine and some burrata. The terrine of chicken livers was the single best thing I had in Italy, perfectly cooked and delightful. When we finished these two dishes, we asked our server to bring us a third antipasto, one that we really wanted to try, baccalà. Twenty or so minutes later, out from the kitchen came a delightfully presented tower of whipped salt cod with sticks of fried polenta. This exquisite dish was a close runner up to the terrine for best dish during our vacation, running neck and neck with the anchovy toast at Ponte Pietra in Verona.
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"La Terrina dello Chef" con Fegatini di Pollo e Ristretto di Vin Santo
Best Dish of our Trip: Brilliantly Cooked, More Pudding than Terrine |
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| Burrata Fritta Ripiena di Pesto, Melanzana Affumicata, e Pomodorini |
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Baccalà Mantecato all'Olio d'Oliva con Polenta Fritta
Awesome Flavor, Great Presentation |
When we tasted how amazing the baccalà was, I asked Ann, because she was on the restaurant side of the table while I was on the street side, if she would go in and ask Endrit to order the rest of our meal for us. He did and the rest of the meal was a surprise. The primi, ravioli and gnocchi, were both works of art. The sfoglia for the ravioli was outstanding and the gnocchi were the lightest and most ethereal that I have ever had, sauced with a tomato and scampi (langostino) sauce reminiscent of my shrimp étouffée sauce.
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Gnocchi di Patate alla Busara di Scampi
Best Gnocchi I've Ever Eaten: Ethereal, a Work of Art
Busara is a Venetian Scampi and Tomato Sauce; Think Étouffée Sauce |
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Ravioli di Ricotta e Olive Taggiasche al Ragù di Coniglio Arrosto
The Star of This Dish was the Beautifully Thin Sfoglia |
By the time the secondi, pork and duck, hit the table we really didn't need any more food, but we ate it anyway! The duck with cherries was well-cooked but my least favorite effort of the evening. I'm not a big fan of secondi in the first place because I always find the smaller plates more interesting. I cannot fault the cooking here, but this duck was not the Moulard that I love. Once you've had the best duck there is, all other duck pales in comparison.
As for the huge pork chop, I do not know what the spices were that it was marinated in, but I do know that it was delicious and that the sprig of nepitella added to the pan lent a great flavor. If you recall from the Verona posts, nepitella is a mint that grows wild all over Italy. The crust was great on this chop, but the highlight was the really tasty fat. This chop came from a high-quality hog. I would have preferred the meat to be a little less well done, but that's a hard thing to do when trying to get a hard sear on a chop.
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| Petto d'Anatra alle Ciliegie |
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| Braciola di Maiale Marinata alle Spezie con Nepitella |
After being hugely stuffed at Il Bacaro, we rolled the 200 meters down the sidewalk back to our apartment, noticing that Firenze seems to be a different town after dark, somehow less touristy and more romantic. Our wonderful enoteca and ristorante experiences capped a day that all in all was largely drama-free and enjoyable, save for the early GPS route issue and the swarms of tourists. We went to bed quickly, aiming to get up and get moving early in the morning to avoid as many tourists as possible.
