A pasta pilgrimage around Italy
A whole month driving around Italy, from top to bottom and back again. This was a dream of mine for years; a dream that a series of COVID-19 lockdowns transformed into an obsession.
Bowls of al dente pasta. Rippling blue oceans. Glowing sunshine. Aperol spritzes clinking with ice cubes. Grilled vegetables doused in peppery olive oil. Warm, welcoming locals. Silver olive trees and pink sunsets. Sun warmed tomatoes. Milky breakfast cappuccinos with crunchy pastries balanced on the side.
I was desperate to make it a reality. And somehow, magically, it happened.
Previously based in Paris in a cute apartment near the Eiffel Tower, the outbreak of COVID-19 made me realise that I needed more living space. So together with my partner Pierre and our dog Josephine, I temporarily decamped in October 2020 to a three-bedroom gite (holiday home) owned by friends in Nuits-Saint-Georges, right in the heart of Burgundy wine country.
Feasting in Puglia on yet another plate of spaghetti vongole. (Photo: Alex Lalak)
Moving was the right choice, but winter in Burgundy is long and very cold, especially when you’re living through various levels of lockdown. Restaurants, bars and cafes closed across France at the beginning of November and didn’t reopen again until mid-May. For months, socialising was banned. Masks were mandatory. Travel within regions was limited, making it hard to see friends. The weather frequently hit sub-zero temperatures.
We dealt with the months of isolation by embracing home cooking, brisk walks through the bare vineyards and video calls with family back in Australia. But my dreams of Italian sunshine and the prospect of a pasta pilgrimage were what really kept me going.
The plan was to rent a car in France, pack a few bags, settle Josephine on the back seat and hit the road, crossing the border under Mont Blanc into Italy to begin our adventure.
But uncertainty lingered over our plans right up to the last minute. We managed to get vaccinated, and then Italy finally opened its borders to EU tourists just days before our planned departure, putting us amongst the first tourists to visit the country this year.
We began with a short stop in Turin to catch our breath and lay the foundations of our pasta pilgrimage. And we started strong: five different bowls of pasta in 36 hours.
The plump agnolotti at Porto di Savona in Turin. (Photo: Alex Lalak)
Highlights included calamarata (short tubes) mixed with mussels and clams and a fragrant swirl of almond pesto at Pescheria Gallina and pillowy agnolotti delicately filled with slow cooked beef and bathed in a meaty gravy at Porto di Savona.
On to Florence, where we stayed in a little Airbnb up near Piazzale Michelangelo with a garden filled with olive trees. We wandered cobblestoned streets. Shopped for ripe tomatoes and thinly sliced salami at Mercato di Sant’Ambrogio, the food market favoured by locals. Drank cocktails at sunset on the roof terrace of the Hotel Palazzo Guadagni, with breathtaking views across Florence.
We spent a memorable day of wine tasting around the Chianti region with the gentle and knowledgeable Gabriel from Grape Tours, stopping for a hearty lunch at the restaurant owned by the eccentric and hospitable Tuscan butcher Dario Cecchini.
And, of course, more pasta: bowls of plump noodle-like pici coated in slow cooked meat ragu, plus the most glorious tortellini in golden brodo (broth) from Trattoria Sostanza, where we also enjoyed a mighty bistecca, the famous Florentine steak.
We were reluctant to leave Florence, but there was much more to see. A short stop in Rome, staying at the newly opened, retro-styled The Hoxton hotel and a wander through the city centre, finishing with a plate of perfect carbonara at Piperno, in the old Jewish quarter
On to Naples for a magnificent pizza lunch at Pizzeria di Matteo (a rare deviation from our pasta mission) before driving on to Positano. It is one of the most popular destinations in the world and seeing it without tourists was a rare and extraordinary privilege.
The glorious view down through Positano. (Photo: Alex Lalak)
Spaghetti with vongole (clams) is the thing to eat in this part of the world and we had a magnificent version at Da Adolfo, rich with garlic and washed down with a jug of white wine with floating peach slices. We also ate several nights in a row at Ristorante Mediterraneo, where the staff welcomed us warmly the first night, and by the third were treating us like family.
Before leaving we stopped at Valenti to stock up on locally made limoncello, then drove along the Amalfi Coast and beyond, all the way to Tropea, the jewel of Calabria and our next stop.
Clear pale blue beaches, food that is fiery with chilli, slightly gruff locals who warm up quickly. Our favourite dish was the long, rolled filej pasta served with a robust tomato sauce featuring the star ingredients of the region, sweet onions and the soft spicy sausage called ‘nduja.
In Puglia we wandered the streets of Alberobello, marvelling at the incredible trulli, dry stone huts with conical rooftops that are unique to this region. We bought ceramics in Grottaglie, a small town famous for its clay creations, and soaked up the glaring beauty of Ostuni, the white city. We swam with the locals at Polignano a Mare, a sparkling little cove beach wedged between chalky cliffs from which young men dive into the clear blue waves to the cheers of the crowd.
And of course, we ate yet more pasta: orecchiette with fresh mussels alongside a huge plate of sweet and delicate sea urchin at Albachiara, a seafood shack in Savelletri that is perched right on the edge of the water and serves some of the best seafood I’ve ever tasted.
Mortadella raviolini at Ristorante Osteria La Traviata in Bologna. (Photo: Alex Lalak)
After bidding farewell to the sun-baked wonderland that is Puglia, we snaked our way back up the centre of Italy, stopping again in Rome and Florence along the way until we finally reached our last destination, Bologna.
A city of peach-coloured buildings, countless archways, the friendliest locals and yet more pasta. So much pasta. Here they have elevated comfort food to an art form and everything tastes like it was made by your loving Italian nonna (if you had one).
The highlight was dinner (two nights in a row) at Ristorante Osteria La Traviata, where the radiant Manuela rolls the pasta herself by hand during the day, then she manages the front of house by evening. The menu is good, but don’t bother with it. Just ask Manuela to choose for you, and she’ll select the best food you’ve ever eaten, including options not even listed on the menu. And if she offers the tortelloni filled with mortadella, order it in a heartbeat.
Our time in Bologna felt like a warm hug, and it was the perfect way to end a very special trip.
Finally it was time to say arrivederci. And so with tanned skin and smiles on our faces and full bellies, we slowly made our way home… with a car boot filled to capacity with tins of olive oil, cases of Chianti, bags of Tropea onions, boxes of handmade tortellini and wedges of parmesan cheese.
