#dal-fiorentino

#dal-fiorentino

The central nave of Sant'Agostino becomes the spine of the exhibition, as the designer divides the space using white, geometric volumes through freestanding architectural forms that visitors can move through.

Working with architect Lorenzo Giordano, the team approached the project as a thoughtful rehabilitation. An aluminum rooftop sits lightly on old masonry; new terrazzo floors by Cuor di Roccia meet terracotta tiles; steel stair housings pair with restored plaster and arched openings. The contrasts are deliberate, revealing each layer of the site rather than hiding it.

Milan is this centrifuge in which there is no past and no future, but an eternal present, even a bit contradictory. Some are not fans of it, but others - like Rafael Leao - immerse themselves in it. A buzz around the city that rarely quiets, especially with the Winter Olympic Games over and Fashion Week beginning with 162 events and 132,000 new visitors.

"Reader-practitioners" would tinker with the various recipes, tweaking them as needed and making personalized notes in the margins. And they left telltale protein traces behind as they did so. The team reported their findings in a paper published in The American Historical Review. It's the first time researchers have used proteomics to analyze Renaissance recipes, enhanced further by in-depth archival research to place the scientific results in the proper historical context.

Historically speaking, an osteria was a spartan, no-frills establishment where people would go to have a drink. The original osterias date all the way back to the Roman Empire. If you go to Ostia Antica or Pompeii, you find the osterias of the era. They were like bed-and-breakfasts, with rooms for rent above the dining room where people could listen to music.

If you follow the advice of Caterina Sforza, 'you will see that thing become so narrow that you yourself will be in admiration.' That striking promise appears in the Experimenta, a collection of recipes attributed to the Renaissance noblewoman Caterina Sforza. Best known as the formidable ruler of Imola and Forli and a fierce opponent of the Borgia family, Sforza also cultivated a keen interest in medicine, alchemy, and cosmetics.

"Piano piano" is an old Italian saying that sounds nonsensical, but is actually full of wisdom, especially if you, like me, are finding yourself wishing away these frigid winter days and hoping spring and summer gets here fast. These days, I've found myself rushing from one thing to the next, frustrated at the smallest things, from post office lines to just missing my train. And I'm ready to make a change.

On my last trip, in Bologna, I found yet another way to enjoy Italian coffee (beyond ordering a doppio). One memorable café topped its coffees with fruit powder-infused whipped cream. They were listed under a section on the menu appropriately named "caffe della gioia" (yes, "joy coffee"). These joyful mugs are topped with a generous mountain of whipped cream that can be folded with fruit- or nut powders, like pomegranate, pistachio, orange, wild berries, and aniseed.

This coccoli, which can be a street food or restaurant appetizer, is truly an icon in Florentine - a term that simply means "from Florence" - fare. The word "coccoli" translates literally to "cuddles," and these fried dough balls do indeed feel like warm little hugs. They're about the size of dumplings; served hot, they've got a crispy exterior to crack into - with just the right amount of grease - where you'll find both fluffiness and chewy doughy-ness all at once.

No more precarious lives

Studying abroad in Florence was one of the best decisions of my life for a multitude of reasons-I lived like a true local, ate some of the best meals I've ever had, deepened my appreciation for art and history, learned Italian, and was able to travel to five countries and two continents in just three and a half months. But most importantly, it immersed me in a culture where personal style is second nature, quickly teaching me how to dress in a sophisticated, timeless,

As I stepped off a train in Florence into heat so brutal it felt like the city was actively trying to kill me, I wondered if I'd made the right decision. This was my first time in Italy, yet I'd already committed to leaving the US and calling it home. I'd dreamed of living in Europe ever since my semester abroad in college, but here I was - overstimulated, sweating, and on my way to move into an apartment I'd only seen through WhatsApp video calls.

Last summer, I found myself in Venice during peak tourist season. The crowds were suffocating. Every piazza felt like a theme park, every restaurant seemed designed for Instagram rather than actual dining. Standing on the Rialto Bridge, packed shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other visitors, I couldn't help but wonder: is this really Italy? That question stayed with me long after I returned to London.

A gloriously clear day cold enough to warrant a coat and gloves yet brilliantly sunny-light shimmering on the water like Christmas baubles and a sky so blue that the tides appeared joyously high. Rainbows entered my suite at the exquisite Venice Venice Hotel; a snowy white heron perched itself on the railing of the balcony, seemingly as enchanted by the activity on the canals as we were; a pianist dressed in a long printed cape that swept the floor played into the night.

Marciari brought me to a very different place: the luxurious, languid heat of late-summer Rome, in one of the final years of the 16th century. There, an ordinary boy has been made to hold a heavy basket of fruit for far longer than he'd like in a hot, airless studio, and a young, unknown painter is on the precipice of greatness.