Just Near the Duomo...

I received the call on Saturday night, my mind quickly clicking through each creamy, fresh, gooey, thick, salty, sweet morsel that had crossed my lips the past few weeks, fast and colorful like grainy slides through my old, bulky red Viewmaster.

"High cholesterol runs in the family, Carly. You need to limit your cheese, bread, sugar--you know what to do"

I sighed.

"Dad, I'm in Italy. ITALY. Do you realize what you're asking?"

Bubbling hot cheese on crispy thin crackling pizza dough, marbled salami with ingrained peppercorns, wrapped around thick slices of pecorino cheese, fresh penne bolognese covered in slowly melting parmesan, a silky prosciutto, warm cheese, and funghi panino from the bar across from my Borgo Ognissanti appartamento--the best panino I've ever had. The cripsy bread breaks with only a small nudge from my teeth, giving way to the warm innards; thick and hearty ham covered in chewy cheese, with the occasional musky, meaty flavor of porcini mushroom.

And the gelato. Oh, the gelato. Thick and creamy, or light and icy, with cascading chocolate chips in the stracciatella, or slightly frozen strawberries in the fragola, each bite causing the kind of smile that makes your cheeks ache. Caramel gelato with a fresh crema base and sticky caramel swirls laced throughout, sandwiched between two hot waffles, the smell making you feel like carnivale has already arrived. Sitting down with the messy desert on a corner across from the ponte vecchio, dripping ice cream onto the cobblestone street between your feet--perfection.

Fuck cholesterol.

I call up La Giostra, one of the best restaurants in Firenze, known for their unbelievably rich, unfailingly cholesterol raising, multi-course meals-- "Per favore, posso fare una prenotazione per domani sera?"