Pbenjay's Blog

Io ho fame (I am hungry) and so is Peter. So out of desperation we walk away from The Accademies towards the Duomo.  We’re not planning on going in, just another interminable line, but to admire this beautiful structure from all sides is enough for this day!

Giotto’s Tower

Giotto’s Tower looms over a plaza filled with tourists eating mediocre food from not real restaurants but this is what you do when you only have limited time to see multiple places in a city like Florence.  I hated the fact that I was eating a dry tasteless panini when last night’s butter chicken, so juicy and flavorful was rapidly becoming a distant memory.

Partially fortified and buoyed by the Morretti beer 🍺 I ordered ( who knew it would 12 oz)?,  we started out heading toward our hotel or at least we thought so.  We ended up in the Plaza dell Republica where there was a charming carousel.

The night before Peter had discovered a flea market near our hotel – funny how we seem to have a magnetic attraction to such places!  He told me about the this great industrial building housing myriad food stalls and a cooking school.  Flea Market is music to my ears so if we can just figure out how to get a cab, we will be good to go!

Peter spots an empty taxi and with a lot hand gestures and some Italian we learn that she cannot take us BUT she points to a rather large yellow and black sign that says TAXI and lo and behold we have finally discovered how to get one’s own cab.  Finding a Taxi stand is another whole story.  We head to the stand where there is one cab and a couple hop in which allows our new friend, the woman driver, to pick us up, all according to protocol. Just like New York lol.

It’s been a long day for me and I can only  imagine how long the leather, scarf, and souvenir dealers have been there – probably at least since 9am.  They are tireless in their pitching, their seductive beseeching of a special price just for you.  I knew what I was looking for and actually found it in one of the first stalls, much to the delight of  the dealer who was definitely not Italian, I think perhaps Indian or Pakistani. Just like New York all over again. I had a great time negotiating the prices of some items.

We ambled through the colorful stalls replete gorgeous handbags and smart leather borsas (bags)  for men.  Leather belts, leather jackets in styles I’ve never seen but will look forward to seeing if the look comes to America.  One particular red swing style with black trim and a stand up collar caught my 👁.  That’s all you have to do – hesitate for a moment and they pounce on you like a jaguar leaping from a tree branch onto an unexpecting guinea hen.  “Madam must try it on, come inside my shop for a minute. I have your size, It is a beautiful coat, no?” Talk about fast talk…if only they were selling cars they could make so much more money.  Well the jacket was stunning and I would never see myself coming or going….but I wasn’t really in the market for a leather jacket.  I looked at the price tag and immediately it was discounted, still I fended him off saying perhaps I would be back tomorrow. The man escorted me back into the market and whispered in my ear, “don’t worry about the price, for you I make a special price” and he reduces it another €40!

Time to go back to the hotel, refresh, relax and think about dinner. All the places I had heard about and those I looked upon my own, were nowhere near where we were staying. Florence is a walking town but not with a broken foot, the cobble stones were killing me so we were taking taxis a lot and never one for less than €11-€13 which is pricey considering the conversion rate is not in our favor (and hasn’t been anyplace in Europe for years!!). Therefore we’re going to eat in the hood.  Peter had walked past a quaint ad lovely restaurant by the name of La Fontacine.

I ordered a delicious dish of sliced Bistecca Florentine sliced, and served over insalta rucola con  pinoli e una ciotola di ribollita.  

The ribollita is a white bean, greens and bread soup to die for.  I’m not kidding!!! I asked the Maitre d’ if he would ask the chef for the recipe but alas the chef had departed for the evening🙁.  I am determined to find a recipe for this marvelous meal in a bowl. In fact, a friend of mine, Heather Smith was just in Florence and wrote to me about this yummy stew she had there called ribolitta!

A little nightcap of gelato from the corner shop and back to the hotel, the end of another long day.

C’iao for now!

To be continued…