I had/have a big zit on my lip, one of those nasty, painful ones and tried to pop it. Big mistake. Now I sit here with a sore, fat and pimpled lip and this feeling takes me back to my teens.
I’m sitting on my parked moped in Piazza Beccaria on a Saturday night with many other Florentine-teens, all there striving to look like we have a handle on life with our espresso from ‘il Gold bar’, immersed in a cloud of cigarette smoke and the familiar smell of leather jackets. We all sit around ‘looking cool’ or in my case trying to look cool but screaming on the inside because I know the pimple on my cheek is going to become responsible for me never ever having the fling I’ve always hoped for with Umberto, or any one else in the world for that matter.
Then my eye catches the closed doors of Dolci Dolcezze the best tart shop in the world on the piazza’s corner. “Mmmm“ I think, “tart and cappuccino in the morning with mum… perfection!”
I’ve spent days trying to replicate & emulate the deliciousness of that tart, the kind of tart that leaves no room for any other thought or worry and allows one to be in the very moment of savoring completely with mind and body. I’ve had a laugh rolling out pastry with Coco,
but mostly testy moments on my own as I produce the third time removed cousin of the tart I’m actually after.
I will keep trying… but mostly I am comforted to know that Dolci Dolcezze is only: two flights, one train ride and a run from Stazione Santa Maria Novella to Piazza Beccaria where its doors open 6 days a week. It’s tarts still sit high and even though I’m not the one to savour it’s preciousness today, someone else in the world is. Viva Firenze! Viva Dolci Dolcezze!