It may be on the outskirts of Naples, in the residential suburb of Fuorigrotta, but there’s still something about Pizzeria Cafasso that attracts clients, from famous directors to your average Joe (Giovanni, in this case). Certainly one big draw is it’s proximity to the San Paolo football stadium, one of the few things in Naples that is not dedicated to San Gennaro, the protector of the city for over a thousand years. It’s believed that San Paolo, or St. Paul, who was born in what is today Turkey and died in Rome, first made landfall in Italy in this spot, which is why the stadium was dedicated to him.

Rione Luzzatti is an ugly neighborhood. That’s not particularly surprising to anyone who has read My Brilliant Friend, the first of Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan novels (or watched the television adaptation) – the two main characters, friends Lila and Elena, grew up in this neglected and working-class area. Built following a simple design after the Second World War and comprising anonymous white buildings, Luzzatti today is defined by decaying structures and poorly kept public spaces. Yet when I first crossed it with my Vespa (well before Ferrante’s novels put it on the radar), I felt that it was a real place, a neighborhood of busy people, of workers. In short, I liked it, even if it was ugly!

When Michelangelo made his Moses statue at the beginning of the 16th century, he found it so lifelike that some say he asked the statue, “Why don’t you speak?” Michelangelo’s Moses, which is now housed in a church in Rome, never said a word. But centuries later, in 2009 to be exact, a customer entered Lello Massa’s deli in Naples and, after biting into a ball of Lello’s mozzarella, exclaimed, “This mozzarella speaks.” “I didn’t think for a moment. I took a large sheet of paper and a red marker and wrote: my mozzarella speaks,” says 46-year-old Lello. And from that day on, this served as the new name of his rosticceria.

In post-Covid times, Neapolitans have been spending more time outdoors, lounging on the grass, letting the children play and, of course, having a bite to eat. And it’s possible to do all this in the city, without having to go “out of town.” Obviously grilling, lighting fires and complex preparations are prohibited. So for now we have to settle for a simpler marenna, which is the Neapolitan word for “snack” – sandwiches and prepared dishes, mostly. Here are three of my favorite parks in the city to picnic at as well as nearby rotisseries where you can stock up on typically Neapolitan flavors.

Everything is ready at Mangia e Bevi. The tables are spaced out, the seats reduced from 60 to only 18, in the kitchen Marilena – owner Luigi Grasso’s wife and the trattoria’s cook – is dressed like an astronaut, the wine is chilled and wonderful smells waft from the kitchen. My favorite restaurant, “my” Trattoria Mangia e Bevi, has reopened after being closed for 80 days. And that’s already good news. “I’m so happy to see you again,” Luigi exclaims, while we touch our elbows, both protected by masks that hides our smiles.

Over the last three months, as the Covid-19 pandemic forced us indoors, the members of my family have put on an average of two kilos. We spent lots of time cooking and talking about food, planning out the week’s menu well in advance. We prepared everything at home: bread, pizza, noodles, cakes and biscuits. My daughters even made sushi! In supermarkets, yeast was nowhere to be found, and we witnessed frenzied scenes whenever flour arrived. But there are some foods that just cannot be prepared at home, and these were the ones we craved.

On Saturday, May 2, we were finally able to eat real Neapolitan pizza once again. No more homemade pizza, thank goodness (a timely measure as yeast is becoming harder to find across Italy). The threats of Vincenzo De Luca, the president of the Campania region, to use flamethrowers in response to those who violated the lockdown bans didn’t come to fruition. A fire, however, was finally rekindled in Naples: that of the city’s thousands of pizza ovens. Pizza is back but you can only buy it takeaway or have it delivered to your home, with a series of health rules to follow. It is not possible to eat in a pizzeria, and this, we will see, completely alters the relationship between the city’s residents and their pizza.

Neapolitans have a special affinity for pasta. It’s a staple pantry, sure, but also more than that – in Naples, pasta is part of the pervading spirit of the place. Not only do we have great respect for this ingredient, but we also appreciate the minute differences between shapes, differences that would surely be overlooked elsewhere. This sensitivity, like many gastronomic rules, has been handed down for generations. With the aim of sharing such knowledge (and taking inspiration from my Pantry Raid presentation on Instagram Live), I put together a pasta guide, which will allow you to make and order pasta dishes as true Neapolitans do, and avoid the mistakes that true Neapolitans would never make.

We’re launching a regular Instagram Live series with our walk leaders called CB Pantry Raid – each person will give a guided tour of the local pantry and discuss the staples that have sustained their communities over the years. Tune in on Thursday, April 16, at 2 p.m. EDT (GMT-4) to hear Amedeo Colella, our Naples bureau chief, talk about the Neapolitan pantry, with a focus on pasta. As Amedeo wrote in his Coronavirus Diary, the markets in Naples initially saw a run on pasta, with only smooth penne pasta (penne lisce) remaining on the shelves (he obviously didn’t buy it, as they eat only ridged pasta in his house).

Editor’s note: We don’t operate in Milan, but it's the home of our managing editor, Emma Harper. So we asked her to share her experience living under lockdown in the epicenter of Italy's outbreak. The first thing I noticed on lockdown in Milan, and the thing that has stuck with me the most, is the barking. Our apartment sits on a noisy thoroughfare, with cars and trams running by at all hours. But now, save for the errant tram, it’s quiet and still; the piercing, fearful dog barks ring out and bounce between the buildings that line my street, amplified by the silence. The only sound that can drown them out is an ambulance siren. It’s safe to say that the Milanese are dog people: Canines crowd the parks and streets, join their owners on the metro, and tag along for caffè and a brioche at the bar.

There’s some good news on the solidarity front. It’s especially nice to get good news since the coronavirus crisis in Italy goes beyond any disaster, any catastrophe I could have ever imagined. While there are few positive aspects to this experience, by nature I always see the glass half full. Professionally and psychologically, humanity will pay a high price, but I believe that we will recover soon. And my belief is buoyed by the solidarity shown in Naples (and that has sprung up all over the world).

A popular dessert in Naples and beyond, the zeppola di San Giuseppe, a deep-fried cream puff, is traditionally eaten on the Feast of St. Joseph (also called St. Joseph’s Day), on March 19, which is also when Father’s Day is celebrated in Italy. On this day, each Neapolitan traditionally eats several zeppole, despite their enormous size and rich filling. I have seen some that, with the addition of cream puffs, cream (inside and outside) and black cherries, weighed almost half a kilo.

In life, it’s never too late to try changing course. It’s not always possible, it’s not always easy, but when you succeed, what satisfaction. Seventy-year-old Raffaele Cardillo, with his smiling face and white beard, can attest to that. After 20 years spent working as a lawyer, shuttling between courts and meetings with defendants, and puzzling over lawsuits and problems to unravel, he decided to give up his law career and transform his passion – cooking – into a real job. Spending his evenings at the stove was a favorite pastime, the way he relaxed after a long day in court.

After a morning spent walking around the Fontanelle Cemetery, the oldest ossuary in Naples, and the Sanità market, we believe that we have created enough of a calorie deficit to face a fried pizza – the original pizza, born before the more familiar oven-baked variety, and a universally beloved dish in the Neapolitan cuisine – with self-acquittal. And in the Sanità neighborhood, there’s no question that we’ll be seeking out the fried pizza of Isabella De Cham. The 26-year-old makes creative and high-quality fried foods in an elegant and polished restaurant, with a black-and-white color scheme – not quite what you’d expect for a fried pizza joint, although the familiar warmth is still there.

Tomatoes, one of the joys of summer in most locales, thrive in Campania’s hot and sunny climate. Yet good tomatoes can be surprisingly hard to find in summer – the oval, longish, rather crisp varieties that are the region’s claim to fame are mostly used for cooking, and the best ones are canned or exported to richer parts of the world. Somewhat improbably, winter is the best time to eat fresh tomatoes in Naples. As soon as the days get shorter and the nights get colder, small cherry tomatoes with a distinctly pointy end start to appear at every vegetable stall and restaurant throughout the city – this particular version of the fruit is known as pomodorino del piennolo del Vesuvio, or simply piennolo.