When you’re in Florence, you do a lot of walking. It’s the primary mode of transportation in this medieval Italian city. My apartment, for example, is roughly a fifteen-minute walk from the school. Since I rarely have time to walk back for lunch (at least not if I want to get any work done), I usually just grab a panino (sandwich) at a café near the school. There are a lot to choose from.
Right across from Palazzo Vettori, to the amusement and chagrin of the professors, are a McDonalds and a Subway. I avoid those like the plague, since I don’t want to waste my euros on a meal I can easily get in America. I have, however, tried Antico Caffé Cavour (yes, Italians spell “café” with two f’s), which is right between the two. Although the bread was dry and the reheated meat was cold in the middle, they offered friendly service and a student discount (fifty to ninety cents off, depending on the panino). I was satisfied with this café until my cohort’s field trip to Venice. My roommate and I ate in three different cafés, and every one of them had delicious food—I never knew a simple combination of bread, meat, cheese, and lettuce could taste so good.
I felt betrayed.
Florence (or at least the area around Palazzo Vettori) had been holding out on me, hiding its truly good sandwich shops. So, I decided to go hunting for the perfect panino, vowing not to give up until I found one that at least matched what I’d had in Venice. Along the way, though, my quest for the perfect panino has developed into something else.
I’ve tried six cafés near the school so far, and each one has provided a different experience. Reassuringly, it didn’t take long to find a sandwich that I liked about as much as the ones in Venice (at Caffé Dell’Accademia), but I haven’t stopped experimenting. Every café has a unique location or atmosphere, a distinctive food and dessert selection, and—obviously—different people. I love the speck (smoked ham), mozzarella, and spinach panini at Caffé Dell’Accademia, and the people who work there are kind and patient.
But I also like the fact that the Non Solo Bar on Via Cavour actually plays Italian music and music videos, even if the waitresses seemed a little grumpy and the mortadella (a type of salami) sandwich was a bit lackluster. You’d be surprised at how difficult it is to find Italian music in Italy. The Gran Caffé San Marco has the best sandwich selection I’ve seen yet, and their omelette con prosciutto (omelet with ham) panini are amazing. Ham or cheese, wrapped in an omelet, on a bun. I repeat: amazing. Their dessert selection isn’t bad either, though I confess I haven’t tried any of their sweets (yet). The woman who served me was very patient and sweet.
Panini Pizze e Vini, right across the street from Caffé Dell’Accademia, was underwhelming. My speck, cheese, and spinach sandwich was warm on the outside but cold in the middle because the chunks of cheese were too big to melt properly, and the pepperoni pizza was totally unremarkable—though I will say that it had a fairly thick crust (about as thick as a one-subject notebook; most pizza crust over here is as thick as four sheets of notebook paper stacked on top of each other). Still, the experience of ordering was interesting. Panini Pizze e Vini serves pizza and sandwiches over a little counter in front of the shop, so you don’t even have to walk in to order. I suppose that’s what you’d call “street food.”
Then there’s Robiglio. They don’t have many panini, but (and I know this will sound weird) the ones they do have are very pretty. It’s worth a trip just to eat such a lovely sandwich—but don’t make the same mistake I did. Take a picture of your panino before you eat it! And if you feel like you’re hungry enough for dessert, please, I implore you, try a cannolo (singular of cannoli). The cream filling is rich, thick, and delicious, and they put chopped nuts on one side and fruit on the other. Then come back at some point and try some chocolate bomboloni (only a euro and ten cents each!): donuts covered in sugar crystals and filled with the most decadent chocolate filling you’ve ever tasted. Robiglio also sells bomboloni with cream filling, though I can’t recommend those. I haven’t tried one yet.
But I digress.
My point is this: Try different things. When I first got here, everything—from the street names to the buildings to the language—was strange and foreign. I desperately craved the comfort of familiarity, and I experienced a lot of anxiety because everything was so different. That fear sometimes made me want to stick to the small section of the city I actually knew (i.e., the route from my apartment to the school) and avoid anything unfamiliar. Yet, as my little quest evolved into a journey of discovery, it helped me become a bit more adventurous. I’ve gotten to see different areas of the city (even if they’re just a block away from the school), and now Florence and I are friends instead of just acquaintances.
So, on the days when you just want to curl up into a ball in your apartment and pretend you’re at home—on the days when you’re particularly sad or afraid—don’t look for comfort in the familiar. Do something new, even if it’s just buying lunch at a caffé you’ve never been to before. Give the city a chance. Get to know her better, and maybe she’ll show you some of her best (read: tastiest) secrets.
