arrivederci
“Arrivederci” is a common way to say goodbye in Italian, but what it actually translates to is “until we meet again”. My time in Italy may be over for now, but if I can do anything to help it, I know we’ll meet again.
The final week in Florence. A new restaurant kitchen — this one in a fancy hotel. The toughest class for me yet. The return of my lost purse…sans cash and credit card, of course. Many, many animal organs. The arrival of my best friend and an escape to a hotel up the hill for a night of air conditioning in the hundred-degree heat. Farewell aperitvi that turned into twelve-hour events, sunsets at Piazzale Michaelangelo, and one final dinner at the trattoria with the crew. More caponata and panzanella and pappa al pomodoro. A bus ride that almost broke me. A very overpriced steak. And unfortunately, too many arrivedercis.
the learning
The week started off with what I knew would be the hardest class for me: bread making. As much as I love to eat bread — I can guarantee you that I like it even more than Oprah does — I lack the confidence to actually make it myself. Bakers and breadmakers seem to have such a gift; it’s a science and an art all at once and they know their craft so well. It’s intimidating. And I felt no differently after seeing local baker Giulio effortlessly move and knead and roll and shape and smooth and work the dough like some sort of sorcery. As I struggled through the process of bringing two different doughs to life, one a rustic whole wheat loaf and the other a classic focaccia bread, I knew my work wasn’t good enough. But if it were, I wouldn’t be here.
Our last cooking class with Sara was quite the animal party: pheasant and pigeon and pork loin, oh my! We made cibrèo, the restaurant’s namesake dish (which isn’t on the menu); it’s a traditional Florentine dish that consists of slow-cooked livers, combs, testicles, and hearts. We took the insides of a guineafowl, cooked up the whole shebang, covered it all in egg yolk and lemon, and tasted something entirely new. We made pigeon stuffed with more livers and sautéed apples, we made a demi-glace using its head and bones, and we made the most perfectly cooked piece of bone-in pork loin which we dredged in said pigeon gravy. More caponata (Sicilian this time), a local Tuscan dish of fried celery in a cherry tomato sauce, and panzanella two ways: traditional, with the bread soaked and crumbled, and contemporary, with the bread cut and toasted. A feast not to be forgotten.
The final cooking class of the entire course, with Stefania, ended on an appropriate note: more pappa al pomodoro by request, and fresh hand-made pasta. This time we made water pasta (rather than egg) with semolina flour, and practiced all kinds of hand-rolled shapes. Cavatelli and fusili and my personal favorite, orcchiette. We made light, pillowy potato gnocchi and two sauces: a “fake” (aka, meatless) ragu and a traditional pesto alla Genovese. A couple comforting bowls of pasta to finish off our Italian culinary journey.
the labor
After working for the ristorante and trattoria since I arrived, this week brought an exciting change of pace: a new kitchen! One with air conditioning! And lots of space! And chef hats! One of the sous chefs there even made me eggs and bacon for breakfast one day because he knew I was American. Needless to say, I was extremely content with the new digs.
The Cibrèo in the Helvetia & Bristol, a five-star hotel in Florence, has a much bigger kitchen than I’d gotten used to. Patsy and I were put to work right away. Sure, a large portion of our working hours were spent diligently cleaning the never-ending mound of mussels on ice each morning, but those not-so-glamourous tasks were balanced out by others that felt a lot more important. I found myself prepping and cooking gurguglione (essentially a Tuscan version of ratatouille) at the stove my first day there. And later that week, perhaps my most exciting kitchen moment of the entire course: cutting up piles of chicken innards and making the pâté that I’ve been devouring at the restaurant all month. The chefs almost let me man the stove long enough to clock the whole recipe…but of course those sneaky Italians whisked the pot away at the last minute, off to the other side of the kitchen where their secret was safe from me.
I knew I was fully capable of adding the ingredients I’d cut up to the large pot at the appropriate time and stirring them, but I still felt a bit nervous being there at the stove, and even a bit incredulous that they were letting me do this. Me? In a chef’s hat? Making a signature dish? At the stove? In a fancy hotel kitchen? For someone who had never worked in a restaurant until this month, those little moments were proud moments. The hotel was still hard work, but it was pleasant work, and it was the perfect way to end this very pleasant experience.
the lineup
Per usual, I ate well this week. What I didn’t do very well was document it. But you’ll get the gist…
IL GUSCIO
This restaurant was less than a block from my apartment, it came highly recommended, and I’d been wanting to try it since the very beginning. I got there just in time, three days before I left Florence. Kelsey and I ate here the first night she got in, and it’s one of the best meals I had in the city. I didn’t even get pictures of anything until the dessert, which is a sure sign I was enjoying it. We ordered an appetizer trio with some delicious goodies, a really good spicy pasta with burrata, and the most lovely lemon chicken meatballs. And then there was the panna cotta: so creamy and covered in caramelized, candied almonds. Yes, yes, and yes.
CIBRÈO ACADEMY
[COOKING TECHNIQUES // CHEF SARA]
Panzanella is something I already loved before coming here, but my time in Florence has reawakened my love for this dish. I basically became panzanella’s biggest fan, ordering it any time I saw it on a menu and requesting to make it in class when we were asked if there were any recipes we wanted to visit. I’ve had panzanella salad in all shapes and sizes — it’s a dish that gets played around with a lot in America — but what I realized is that nothing beats the OG version. As a lover of anything toasted or crispy, I figured I’d prefer the more “contemporary” version, but the traditional, covered in crumbles of soaked stale bread that heightens all of its fresh flavor, has my heart. So simple, so summery, so satisfying for a salad girl like me.
LA SORBETTIERA
It’s so hard to pick a favorite gelato. And trust me, I’ve done some homework. But the best I had this last week in Florence? Sorbettiera: a tiny little spot near the train station. The general rule is to look for the “hidden” gelato — you want the gelato that’s tucked away and covered in frozen metal containers, rather than the one that’s piled high and on display through clear glass. Sorbettiera is a “hidden” gelato place, and I can attest that this theory stands up. The Venezuelan chocolate could not be darker or richer, yet it’s still as light as air. I went back twice in one week. Molto buono.
Four weeks of learning, seeing, doing, living snuck right by me. Time gone way too fast, and not nearly enough of it, but time I’m so grateful to have had in this happy place of mine.
So to these new friends, to this country I love, and to the food that I can’t get enough of: arrivederci. I’m leaving with a full heart and a full stomach, but you know this ghiotta will be back for more.
Until we meet again 👋🏼.
