EASTER INSANITY

(the cart starts the firework show with pillows of colorful smoke)


(the finale full-force explosion of fireworks)


(the best seat in the house is on your dad's shoulders -- oh to be a girl again)


(the Florentines parade down to the Duomo with the cart)


(killer renaissance fashions)

If you make it to Florence, through the tourists, lines and droves of leather products, do come on Easter weekend. The main event, "Scoppio del Carro" ("Explosion of the Cart"), following a real renaissance parade, is a midieval spectacle of the craziest order. I love a good parade and was happy with the cooky ensembles, boys in tights and drums, but then a pair of head-dressed white oxen lugged a huge wooden cart and I got really excited. I didn't even know what was coming . . .

Thousands of people crowded in the Piazza del Duomo. The oxen roll on in. Multi-colored plumes sticking out from mushroom-shaped hats. A gold-gilded "cart." A cherry-picking crane to light the thing up (surely a remnant from the first ceremony in 1099). To be a little girl again, the best seat in the house on her dad's shoulders. Locals abuzz -- and folks who drive in every year to be apart of the festivities. A waterfall and cascade of fireworks, finally lighting up the gray sky -- the Duomo an incredible backdrop. The whole morning was quite Indian in its ritual, crowd, ridiculous pomp and palpable excitement.

And that's how you do Easter in Italy.

CUTE DOG, MARKET AND LADIES -- FLORENCE DELIVERS

(Chiulda, the sweetest dog with the softest ears)


(Chiulda's fabulous mom, a biscotti baker)


(chocolate biscotti await their fate, in our tummies)


(once-a-month artisanal market of local goods)


(glamorous cheese purveyor - I love her cozy style)


(whole wheat bread and local panatone cakes -- very tasty)

Is there another dot on the map where the girl dishing out biscotti at the Farmer's market is wearing $500 Chloe sunglasses and has a perfectly sweet long-haired doxen named Chiulda wandering around her stall without a leash? I dare you! Florence has divine fresh eats. While Portland sadly banned dogs from the market last year, the Florentine lady's are calling and whistling for their furry darlings if they wander too far. I noticed Chiulda had an affinity for the truffle stand, and how can you blame her?

In between stroking the dog's ears and being stupefied by her excessive cuteness, we sampled:

- saffron cake
- moist panatone (dried fruit cake mixed with cloves and nutmeg)
- truffle pesto
- sweet onion relish
- olive oil
- dark vinegars
- chianti wine (it's cheaper than water here! and absolutely tasty)
- apricot, chocolate and almond biscotti
- wheat bread

The small market featured local products, mostly processed in some manner-- pickled, made into a sauce, dried, baked, etc. It was a superb afternoon full of my favorite activities: dog cuddles, tasting delicious morsels and oggling Italian lady fashions.

THE NUDE SANDWICH

(the sandwich guru's temple of delights)


(where the magic happens)


(beautiful sign near shop)

(starting the bambini off right with a stop to the sandwich shop)

(my lunch, in all its glory)

There are sandwiches and there are SANDWICHES. We indulged in the latter at a small shop around the corner from the Ufizzi Gallery, in Firenze. They were artfully assembled, each ingredient in perfect harmony and proportion to the other. I can only say that they were created by two sandwich gurus.

Picture this, mis amicis, soft focaccia with flecks of sea salt on the crust, a liberal smearing of black truffle sauce, roasted red peppers, grilled chili-flaked egglplant, fresh buffallo mozarella cheese and chopped arugula. As the guru created, he repeated each ingredient in Italian -- a language lesson always comes with my favorite lunch.

The thing about being in Florence, the Tuscan region of Italy, is the quality of each ingredient and its treatment is simply paramount. Each vegetable, cheese, cake, gelato -- they all sing with simplicity and understanding that the good foods in this world don't need much fussing. The vibrance of each item shines through, undressed and simple, unabashed and delicious. Nude, not naked. Like gorgeous Venus, emerging from the sea foam and David, standing in his birthday suit in the middle of the Palazzio.

Simple food, a light touch. It doesn't get much better. After I finished my sandwich, I had to go back and shake the man's hand. It was either that or ask him to come along with me in my suitcase for all of eternity.

If you go:

Fedra and Daniele Rosticceria,

Via de Neri, 74r, Firenze

tel. 055.238 2723

SPUMONI

Like most things in Italy, even the candy is fun, sassy, stylish and a bit over the top. I am in love with a licorice concoction, stuffed with a white frosting but, it is this pink and white Spammoni that is the most ridiculous of all. Not the tastiest thing I've put in my mouth, but a fabulous toy and dress-up item. You can wear it as a necklace, on your head like a halo and do a two person nibble, meeting in the middle for a spumoni smooch.

Just looking at the photo makes me smile.

SAN MARCO CIOCCOLATO FORTE

Is there anywhere else on Earth that serves rich, earthy hot chocolate out of a machine? The most sublime Basilica, San Marco in Venice, boasts golden mosaics, wild untamed horses, beauty beyond beauty . . . and a security guard who went crazy at Dave for wandering into a confessional area ("RESPETO, NO RESPETO!! LOOK, R-E-S-P-E-T-O!"). It wouldn't be Italy without being yelled at, a sport for us at this point. We've got nothing on my Pops, however, who was beaten by an Italian monk with a cane for photographing an alter on his last visit here.

MILANO STYLE

(the mall)

(Duomo bliss)



(view from the Duomo)







(La Scala Theater Museum)

Among the many wonders in the city of Milan, the one that sticks out the most is the impeccable style that everyone, and I mean everyone, exhibits. There are many different types of looks . . . And it seems no matter who you are, or what age, you are definitely rocking some type of fashion pretty hard. Whether it be the young ladies in the leggings, platforms, false eyelashes and fur boleros (accessories: pouty lips and pal) or the over 40-man crowd in fitted trousers, a nice sweater, over a button down on a chic black bicycle. My favorite style inspiration however was being fashioned by ladies over 60 -- most of them were sporting black tights, 2-inch sensible (yet sexy) black heels, a pencil skirt, quilted coat, perfectly coiffed hair-do, large shades, scarf, winning smile and a walk that says "i know where I'm going." These ladies walked the main streets in groups of threes and fours . . . always giggling and giving each other knowing looks.

The Duomo in Milan was also something to behold -- we caught the sunshine up there and relaxed with the angels for over an hour . . . Pretty grand. The people of Milan seem so be almost as crazy about religion as they are about their fashions. With the most beautiful mall on Earth right next door to the Duomo (cathedral), there may have been more folks worshipping plush stuff than the man upstairs. We worshipped at the shrines of both sects!

I found it fun to contrast the US and MILAN's sense of things -- here's a list:

Milan -- US
cashmere -- fleece
kitten heel clunky -- white tennies
jimmy choo 4-in boots -- flats
fedora, beret or blow-dried hair -- baseball cap
skin-tight jeans -- mom jeans
gelato -- non-fat frozen yogurt
nutella crepes -- peanut-butter sandwiches
cheap bike rentals -- driving in your car
Duomo insanity -- church with locked doors

THE LOVECHILD CALLED "PANZARETTO"

(the panzaretto rests in my lap)


(the diverse line to Luini's)


(the preferred seating area)


(panzaretti cuddling)


(the lunch hour gets going-- i love the red pants, red flats, gray coat ensemble)

When Luini combined the yeasty fluffy pillow-like qualities of a donut with the traditions of a margherita pizza, a miraculous lovechild was born: the pomodoro panzaretto. Pomodoro is the classic flavor -- a sinful combination of fresh mozarella cheese and simple tomato sauce. Originally hailing from Naples, the Luini family have brought the panzaretto to the people of Milano. Thankfully, we have been in Milan for the past few days . . . You see, life will never be the same after consuming this, the zenith of all street foods. The panzaretto, a perfect synthesis of flavors: slight sweetness (the dough) and savory (sauces and cheese), texture -- soft on the inside, shattering flakiness on the outside and temperature -- piping hot.

It's a freakin' miracle dressed as a hot pocket.

It is also the great economic equalizer -- the stomach knows no class divisions, and this little baby has EVERYONE lined up to get in... fashion queens, teenagers, tourists, suits, fancy people, familes. There's nowhere to sit, except a nearby curb, so most devotees eat whilst standing, or on the go.

I don't think i've ever eaten anything as calorie dense or blissful. The panzaretti are just right when you find yourself wandering around a new city and suddenly become delirious with hunger... we followed our noses and the longest line around the Duomo-- with a hunch and a prayer that something good was happening . . . we were mistaken -- we stumbled into a slice of pure sexiness. The panzaretto more than hit the spot, it was downright sensual. D had to hold my arm to keep me moving away from Luini's, so I wouldn't order 5 more. Thank you Luini!!!

FORMERLY VEGETARIAN, NOW GELATOTARIAN

(sinous swirls of fresh pasta rest in a shop window)


(mother and daughter travelers always make me smile)


(our focal point in this country)

(D and I sip on macchiatos and americanos with glee)

(meet Jenna, Vito's sister, who lives near Zurich, Switzerland)

We have arrived in Venice -- and we are attempting to taste every flavor of gelato while being in Italy for one week. My first in the city was a 'fior de latte,' more or less a sweet cream while D sampled 'baccio' a swirling concoction of hazelnut and chocolate. Once we were pumping with sugar and fat, we took an all-day walk around the island, stopping for the world's best macchiato at sweet cafe. I love a restaurant with big mirrors and red booths (see photo).... Being in Italy, you just can't help but notice the artful way life is done... even the paper napkins had the most beautiful emblem on them. You cannot escape the beauty. It's a wonderful feeling being surrounded by history, memory and reverence for human expression. Not to mention the gastronomic bliss that beckons at every corner. I insist on stopping in almost every grocery store, small market, pastry shop and gelataria . . . just to plot the next day's meal or a taste of something fabulous.

Another incredible high-point of first day here was spotting a cirnecco del etna (same breed as Mr. Vito, my family's most beloved hound), prancing with her owner near the grand canal. I made a bee-line for the darling to stroke her ears, and low and behold she's is from Vito's same litter! Her name is Jenna and she is a little shy, but completely adorable. It is an amazing and small world we dog-obsessed folks live in . . .

Venezia is definitely a city to let the map go, take deep breaths, walk slowly and wander till dark. We are off to Padova tomorrow and a few day trips coming up, then D's Mom arrives on Wednesday and we all drink cappuccinos till our hair stands on end. Molto Benne.