Naples

Coronavirus Diary: Milan

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.

Naples

CB on the Road: Buffalo Mozzarella, Straight From the Source

All morning, as we zoomed down south from Naples on a motorcycle, inky clouds threatened rain. So when we arrive at Rivabianca, a mozzarella di bufala cooperative in the village of Paestum, with our clothes still dry, we exhale deeply, not realizing that we had been holding our breath. Inside the dairy’s production center, separated from the small shop by large windows and a big metal door, it looks as if the rain has already come and gone – the tile floor is covered in water. “Wait just a sec, you’ll need these to go inside,” says Rosa Maria Wedig, the owner of Rivabianca, handing us two plastic bags. Before we can make a move, she’s bending down and shoving them on our feet, using duct tape to secure them around our ankles.

Naples

CB on the Road: Looking for Italy in Eataly

FICO Eataly World has been described in a number of ways – agricultural park, glorified supermarket, mall, bazaar, and production center have all been tossed around – but it was the moniker “the Disney World of food” that grabbed our imagination, conjuring up fanciful images of a log flume powered by wine instead of water and Mickey Mouse transformed into a giant ball of mozzarella. The reality isn’t quite as whimsical (although the venue does have an animated fig mascot, a plump green character whose rotund belly recalls the Kool Aid Man). The self-described “agri-food park,” which occupies a former wholesale market on the outskirts of Bologna, is like Eataly, the Italian food hall and market “concept” that has seen success across the world, but also not.