Brrrr... A Deep Freeze Bites into Europe

By now you have heard the news that extreme winter weather has hit Europe especially hard the past few days.  I want to show you just how cold it is, but just how best to do that?  You likely have already seen the many pictures in your morning newspaper or television, but they keep showing the same thing, snow.  Snow conveys only the half of it.


Mabel had on a coat over her natural fur coat, and I was bundled up pretty well myself. Armed with my trusty camera, we braved the bitter cold, taking our final evening stroll on our way home from dinner with a friend.  It was that happy but freezing cold moment that we reached Piazza Santo Spirito and I saw its fountain. 

Imagine how cold it must be to flash freeze moving water! The photo puts into perspective just how cold it is here in Florence, Italy.


Of course, the north is used to extreme weather incidents. But the Mediterranean countries, aren't they accustomed to basking in sunshine year round?  For a Southern California girl, a high of 0 and a windchill factor of minus 15 (below 0) makes one want to run for cover, a big cup of hot chocolate in hand, and some serious cuddling!

Satisfying Heart, Soul, and Belly in Florence, Italy

You know that sharing my experience and knowledge of Italy in general and Florence in particular is something I love to do, if you have been reading my blog. Every now and then, though, I am embarrassed or disappointed when my sharing does not go off so swell.  You know those times when you take your friends or family to a favorite restaurant, but it turns out to be an off night and the service is less than usual and you know your guests are unhappy or even displeased.  Perhaps the waiter forgets to place the order of someone's pasta dish, or the food comes out one plate at a time and lukewarm. That type of thing happens, of course; so I become a bit reluctant to share my beloved favorite places.  We all do.

Sweet pleasures

For the love of cappuccino

The other evening I passed a woman on the street whom I overheard asking in English to her husband, "Should we just ask someone?" I spoke up, as I usually do, and offered my assistance.  The woman was delighted and receptive.  They wanted to have a good meal, and I sent them to one of my all-time favorite restaurants in Florence. And off they went. I hoped my recommendation would prove just the place they sought...

This morning while Mabel and I were on our morning walk, that woman was standing at the base of Ponte Vecchio on the Oltrarno side staring at me. I didn't recognize her. She spoke up, "You are the woman who sent us to the restaurant for dinner, aren't you?"

Uncertain whether her experience was good or bad, I responded with hesitation, "Most likely. Where did I send you, and how was the food?"

The girls at OSP

She replied that throughout their dinner, she told her family that she wanted to find me and kiss me.  The family loved their food, the service, the locale, and the piazza. And they loved that they were the only American family there, or so they believed.

Osteria Santo Spirito

Osteria Santo Spirito is one I happened upon in 2003, my first time in Italy.  I was attracted because of the energy and atmosphere, and, all these years later, I keep coming back because the food is that good.  It is simple, not fancy, elegant, nor expensive.  The food is authentic and, oh, so delicious, though many tourists now know about it. (I am certain the fact that I direct nearly every tourist there that asks me for a dinner recommendation and each friend I take there ends up adopting the trattoria as their own adds to the number of tourists that eat there.)

Amy with risotto zucchini

As we were talking, the rest of her clan showed up - they are a family of 8 from Minnesota - and she told her family, "I found her; I found her. This is the woman that told us where to have dinner two nights ago."

Chitarra

A young girl about 9 years old asked her mother if she had kissed me yet. And the little girl told me she loved her spaghettata (spaghetti meal).  I inquired which pasta dish she ordered and realized it was the chitarra (guitar).  I explained to her the reason that particular homemade spaghetti is called chitarra is because, when the fresh pasta is being made, it resembles the strings of a guitar as it comes out of the pasta machine.  She immediately grasped the connection, and her face lit up having that little bit of new information to take home with her. They all piped in, speaking at the same time, saying they needed me for other recommendations the last two days and wished they had had my phone number. 

Mango, fragola, lampone gelato?

Local gelato supporters

Today is their last day in Florence.  They asked me about gelato.  I volunteered a lesson on the real stuff (gelato, that is) and sent them in the direction of Cantina del Gelato.

Getting coned

The ultimate compliment for me is the genuine feedback I receive and happiness I witness in others as a result of sharing my passion and experience. It's so simple and pleasurable that it makes me want to sing.

Wild Goose Chase

I showed up at the agreed-upon place and time to go enjoy a pizza with a small group of people ... and ended up going out with just one of the group, my friend "G'io."  

G'io is a Florentine who insists there is no good food to be found within the city.  I am no food snob, but I do agree few great restaurants reside within the city walls largely because the majority of the restaurants cater to tourists and, as such, is not especially great food. When I used to vacation here, people would tell me "You can't eat poorly in Italy," but that is so not true. That said, I do have a number of places within the walls that I love and frequent.

The night before G'io wanted to take me to dinner, which involved either driving or taking a taxi, where we could eat "well," but I had my reasons for not being adventurous and didn't go. Last night he conceded to my wishes to stay within the city walls and to go somewhere we could walk to -- well, that is, initially, he conceded. We walked to Piazza Santo Spirito and settled in at Ricchi, a decent restaurant. He wanted to have fish.

Nota Bene:  Understand that Florence is landlocked and as a result is a meat-eating city. Even though the sea is only an hour away, fresh fish is brought to the markets on Fridays and available to all.  Friday is the day of the week in Florence to indulge in fresh fish, whether in restaurants or at home.  Otherwise, if you want fresh fish, chances are it will be frozen, even though it may have been frozen as recently as the day prior.  Oh, you can get fresh fish here other days of the week in certain restaurants, but you will pay heavily for that day's catch.

Back to Ricchi.  We ordered a bottle of fizzy water. The waiter came to take our order even though we had not yet opened the menu.  "What good fish is on the menu today?" my friend G'io asked.  The waiter began to explain.  To each item the waiter said, my friend had questions and comments and poo-poo'd several of the waiter's descriptions.  G'io ordered what he wanted, exactly how we wanted each dish prepared for both of us, and none of it was from the menu.  I felt like I had just been dropped into a scene from the film When Harry Met Sally and G'io was Sally.  Remember, I am in Italy, where the custom is that there are no menu substitutions. It was comical. A little discussion pursued regarding just how fresh the fish was. The waiter ran off to consult with the chef and promptly returned. Next thing I knew, G'io asked to pay for our bottle of water, which the waiter refused to allow him to pay, and to call a taxi for us, and we were out the door and on the street awaiting our taxi's arrival.

We took a 10 Euro taxi ride to just barely outside one of the city doors to Trattoria Vittoria.  We could have walked there in under 15 minutes.  I enter to see a large aquarium that I don't think is intended to be decorative followed by a very long display of fish and seafood of many varieties, big and small.  It is obvious everyone knows G'io.  He is greeted with handshakes, hugs, and kisses, and lots of "Mi dispiace," (I am sorry). At this point it is still early for dinner in Italy, but the restaurant is full.  G'io frequents this place regularly and dumps a lot of Euro here.  There were two very large parties that filled the restuarant, and G'io felt the restaurant made a grave error by not squeezing a small table for two in a corner somewhere for us to sit.  (It was Friday night.  We didn't call in advance, rather just showed up.)

Back out on the street.  We discuss where to go next...  He calls for another taxi.  Having selected our next stop, I convince him we can walk to the next viale (boulevard, avenue) and at the same time work up an appetite.  I tried to convince him, unsuccessfully, to start a charity fund in my honor after seeing how much he is willing to spend, frivolously, on taxis.

We arrive to Fuor d'acqua, and it is packed liked sardines. Again, he is greeted in the same manner, i.e., handshakes, hugs, kisses, and "I'm sorry." Again, no place for us.

Out on the street again and still outside the city walls, we walk next door to Via Vai, chic and also packed. The usual greetings again. I watch the maître d' shake his head "no" as he studies the 14x18 piece of paper full of reservations. Eventually, he finds a table for us. We're hungry, it is no longer too early for dinner in Italy, and we are finally sitting down. Again, G'io goes through the exercise of drilling the waitress about what good food is on the menu tonight, and then he proceeds to order for both of us what he wants, the way he wants, not according to the menu.  

Dinner was excellent.  We began with an appetizer of burrata. (Burrata is a fresh Italian cheese, made from bufala mozzarella and cream. The outer shell is solid mozzarella while the inside contains both mozzarella and cream, giving it an unusual, soft texture. It is usually served fresh, at room temperature. The name "burrata" means "buttered."  It is served with lightly fried mozzarella and small mozzarella balls and prosciutto.)  Our primo piatto (first plate) is fresh, homemade spaghetti with porcini mushroom sauce served wrapped in foil.  Our second dish consists of a gorgeous fresh vegetable salad, and the most delicious, perfectly grilled Chianina filet mignon I have ever tasted with mashed potatoes.  I still had food in my mouth when suddenly he was ready to go, and we abruptly left.  It happened so fast that once we were on the street, I couldn't help but think I left something behind in the restaurant.  My experience of eating dinner out in Italy is you "buy" your table for the evening and you leisurely enjoy one course after the other over several hours' time.

We walked back into town and back to Santo Spirito where we sat outdoors and took coffee and continued our conversation.

Oh, I am not complaining.  It was a dramatic, exciting, and fun evening, full of great conversation. Started out with the intention of having a pizza, which turned into a mission for fresh fish, and ended up eating the best filet.  I learned about a few restaurants (all in one night) that I hadn't previously known about that are off the tourist maps and places I would love to return and actually eat at.  I ate well. For a simple girl from Southern California, the entire evening was entertaining.

After many hours of speaking and listening intently and intensely only in Italian with a person that has a thick Florentine dialect, speaks quickly and not often clearly, doesn't cater to my language inadequacies, I came home exhausted but with several new words and phrases added to my Italian lexicon, a belly full of excellent and yummy food, and a deeper friendship.

Perspective from a Rooftop Terrazza

Santo Spirito

Looking SW at my old 'hood Santo Spirito, San Frediano

Santo Spirito

Duomo and Palazzo Vecchio

A hand-held-in-the-pitch-dark blurry foto attempting to show the terrazza from where I shot the fotos with Palazzo Pitti in the background

-- Josslyn "Giosalina"
Firenze, Italia

The Crucifix of Santo Spirito

Michelangelo Buonarroti self-taught the study of anatomy.  In the wee hours of the night, Michelangelo would sneak in and out of the morgue of the hospital at the church of Santo Spirito in Florence, Italy.  He would carve and dissect corpses and commit to his memory each layer of the body's systems.  The prior of Santo Spirito, Niccolo Bichiellini, was aware of someone entering the morgue, but it took quite a while before he put two and two together and came to the realization that it was indeed Michelangelo sneaking around.  Because the church prior liked Michelangelo and though the two never actually discussed Michelangelo's un-permitted entrance into the morgue and dissection of the corpses, there was an unspoken agreement that he was free to continue his anatomical studies; hence, no more sneaking.

Out of gratitude for the prior's generosity bestowed upon Michelangelo, when Michelangelo was a mere 18 years of age (1493), he sculpted the wooden crucifix of Jesus as a gift to the prior and the church. The sculpture remained in the high altar of the church until the early 1600s when some structural modifications to the church were made.  The cross was relocated and apparently lost for some time.

More recently, 1964, the sculpture was displayed in Rome and eventually moved to the Casa Buonarroti.  In the past week the sculpture was returned to its original home in the church of Santo Spirito.  I was fortunate to see the crucifix this weekend.

How do we really know it is a work of Il Divino, Michelangelo? He didn't ordinarily sculpt on wood.  I believe this may actually have been his only wood sculpture, but I cannot confirm this. It is a piece from his early years; hence, a bit simplistic in contrast to what he was known to create.  He wasn't known to sign his works.  Yet after much testing by the experts, it has been determined and confirmed that in fact it is a work of Michelangelo.  There are those who challenge this.  Always a controversy...  Who am I to say?  I enjoy learning about his life and the jealous relationship he had with Leonardo Da Vinci, and I accept that it is a work of art created by the master.

From my observation, the sclupture is smaller than life-size. The cross itself stands approximately six feet tall, and Jesus is probably slightly more than three feet tall.  The face is humble and peaceful; his feet nailed to the cross.  It is a gorgeous piece. Originally, Jesus was sculpted naked, with the understanding that a slip of clothing would be added, but in the various relocations of the sculpture, the clothing has been lost.

I had hoped to capture a photograph of my own, but the priest -- or was it a prior? -- was on duty in the room, making sure no one took pictures nor spoke or gasped too loudly.
-- Josslyn "Giosalina"
Firenze, Italia

Shapes

Finding churches everywhere is common, especially in a Roman Catholic country like Italy. Nonetheless, I spend more time outside any church, than inside. This nondescript church in Santo Spirito has caught my eye from every direction since I first lived in the area. I try over and over to capture in a photo the feelings it brings up inside me, and yet can't quite. Instead, its angles, geometric patterns, patina, shadows, and size capture me.

Just one of many things I feast my eyes on in a given day.
--Josslyn "Giosalina"
Firenze, Italia

Mercato

On the other side of the Arno River ("Oltrarno") is Piazza Santo Spirito, which happens to be the zone in which I live. Each morning there is a different market in the square. Sunday this week was the mercato biologico ("organic market"). Open-air markets have always attracted me because of the displays of goods. The glorious colors of the fruits and vegetables are a reminder that it is autunno ("autumn"). The variety of zucca ("squash") available at this time of year makes for a hearty and healthful soup on a cold fall evening. Experiment.

-- Josslyn 'Giosalina'
Santo Spirito, Florence, Italy