Rachel Green
FLORENCE, Italy –
I have noticed many frequent happenings here in Florence in my time here. The church bells ring every hour, an adorable couple and their even more adorable dog sit outside the same café near my school everyday and the same gypsies hang around the same piazzas every day. I feel like I am becoming a part of the city, even though I have only been here for few weeks. I have even developed a little habit of my own.
I am a very frequent customer of the café, Moka Arra on the corner opposite my school and a very frequent eater of ciambelles. In Italy, ciambelles are the doughnut’s sister food and are similar in nature, except they are made with flour and boiled potatoes and covered with granulated sugar instead of a sticky matte glaze.
It’s hard to resist the glistening, fluffy, sugary goodness of the darn things. But here, breakfast time has a fairly strict code: ordering a cappuccino for instance, to accompany a ciambella after 10 a.m. is considered culturally absurd. I once ordered two in one sitting and got quite the look from the café owner. My stomach was happy; he didn’t seem to be.
My affection for the pastries will carry on despite the cultural difference, despite the stares. I will continue to enjoy them; my own personal frequency.
Plated 