The sky is cut with steel today with clouds that are encased in a silver lining that threatens to burst its load of fat rain bullets at any time.

 

But you, ever the optimists, head off in the car anyway.

 

You sing along to terrible country music, laughing that you all know the words, as the roads engorge themselves on the lush Tuscan countryside.

 

Taking the road less travelled, but more scenic, you take your time to your destination. You stop in a town that appears to consist of a coffee shop and 3 houses, back-dropped with fields tinted with red poppies. Their red slashes the grey of the early afternoon.

 

Driving along, you are all preoccupied with the skies. Will the gods of rain be good to you or the farmers today?

 

All of a sudden, the driver stops the car, parking lopsidedly in a ditch on the side of a roughly gravelled country road. You all get out the car.

 

Heads tilt back as you wonder at this - the clouds, they stop here, as if neatly folded and placed gently over the barren grounds, they form a line in the sky. Beyond, it is white with sunlight.

 

You get back in the car and the conversation is consumed for several minutes by conversation of strange natural occurrences, great storms, flash floods, clouds that looked like great grandfathers… until a fantastic song comes onto the radio and you are distracted by a catchy tune.

 

Heads and feet pop and bob metronomically as you all sing along, conversation rejected by the visual consummation of the landscape and the oral expulsion of out of tune voices.

 

Whilst in Tuscany, it is at time definately the journey and not just the destination, you are all somewhat relieved to arrive in the car park on the outskirts of your walled destination. The parks are so tight however, you must all alight to let the driver squeeze into the narrow-lined parking space.

 

San Gimignano. A small town amongst many, whose avant garde mayor saved the city from despair by promoting it as a tourist destination. Many thought he was crazy, but the fact that San Gimignano flourishes, and deservedly so, answers any critics.

 

One of you knows some less-known aspects of this city, so you enter into the walled city from a small doorway rather than the usual large front opening.

 

In order to enter, you must climb many narrow, ancient stone stairs. You arrive at the top, entering into a small park area. Two teenage boys sit on a park bench to one side. A child swings on the playground equipment, head thrown back and mouth open, his mother watching on with affection at his sheer joy from such a simple pleasure.

 

Meanwhile, you follow your guide, across the park until he stops and asks for your camera. Poses are struck, time is captured at rapid shutter-speed as you smile into the afternoon sun.

 

You walk to the edge of the park, then up a narrow set of (more!) stone stairs to a small yet crowded platform. From here, you see 8 towers of San Gimignano. Of various sizes and shapes, these towers are the last standing of many. They form a stacked Lego skyline over the stunning Tuscan landscape that everyone on the lookout wants to photograph.

 

Taking turns to snap shots, people pose and smile back dropped by the towered skyline.

 

Next you head into the centre of the city. A maze of narrow cobbled streets open into piazzas with churches, wells, stores, bars…. a city buzzing with tourists and locals enjoying the lazy afternoon.

 

It is heading towards early evening, still hours away by Italian standards until dinner. You decide that you all must have a gelato. There is nothing else for it.

 

You are in Piazza della Cisterna, and head for the Gelateria di Piazza. One of you orders the less-than-adventurous standard gelato choice he has each and every time - chocolate and vanilla with whipped cream on top. The rest of you opt for something more adventurous, but it is you that chooses something even more extraordinary than the others… the Vernaccia gelato!

 

Honestly, it is not very nice. By mixing these two wonderful things together - wine and ice cream, you somehow lose the best of both of them. However, since your chocolate-and-vanilla friend had advised against the option, paired with a delicious peach gelato, you are want to look at it from the clear blue expanse of the sky rather than beyond the gray divide; you see your decision as an experience, truly fitting to being in San Gimignano.

 

You walk to the next piazza over and seat yourselves on the church steps whilst you eat your gelati. A young child runs rings around his parents, entangling them in the extraordinary long string of his red balloon that tries to unite with the duskened sky. A couple, dressed strangely the same, speak to each other with a 2cm distance between their faces, a family wanders through the piazza, kids running ahead and being called back by hand-holding parents. And teens, they meander and slouch and care too much as teens will do, these ones, being Italian, do so whilst also looking extremely chic.

 

You walk into a street next to the church, to the Caffè della Erbe, which has a great wine list and some snacks. The outdoor tables are filled, but you spy one being vacated that you quickly grab.

 

You order the real thing this time - a glass of the famed San Gimignano white, the Vernaccia.

 

Facing the stone facade of the church, in a little caffè tucked away in San Gimignano, you while away some hours, barely paying attention to the waning sunlight in the still clear sky.

 

With glasses emptied, and rumbling bellies dictating that it is time to continue on with your evening, you give your legs one last stretch on this hilly little town as you head up and down and then out of San Gimignano.

 

You are on the outskirts of the historical city centre and the people who pass are almost never tourists, but locals on their way home from work, or on their way out to ‘aperativi’ (drinks and nibbles) or perhaps dinners in pizzerias just like this.

 

As you stand chatting with the first of the friends to arrive, a couple passes by, their skin tanned from weekends passed beach-side. They are dressed in matching white flowly linen pants, brown toes peep from leather sandals. Large sunglasses add a mystery to their chicness.

 

An elderly man passes by on a old bicycles that you can hear from metres away. A woman walks past with a small and overly pampered dog on a leash.

 

Once all of your group arrive, you enter the Pizzeria.

 

Inside there are several large rooms scattered with tables of diners. Despite a seating capacity of 250 people, if this were a Friday or Saturday night, there are times when you will not get in without a booking, so popular is this, possibly the best pizzeria in Florence.

 

The walls are covered with large black and white photographs of Naples, where the pizza here originates from. The menu contains 27 types of pizza, all with Neapolitan names. The pizza makers are all from Naples too, the flour used to make the dough comes from Caputo, the tomatoes are from San Marzano and the mozzarella cheese comes from Mondragone.

 

This is the real Neapolitan pizza in the heart of Florence.

 

The name, Funiculì, is taken from the 1880 song, Funiculì Funiculà, with lyrics written by journalist Peppino Turco and the world-famed tune added by Luigi Denza. It was written to commemorate the opening of a Naples ‘funicolare’ (a funicular railway) that gave access to mount Vesuvio. To this day, you can hear the song around the world, the tune instantly recognisable and almost guaranteed to get stuck in your head!

 

In the Funiculì pizzera, your waiter guides you to your table. He brings your group a glass of prosecco, on the house, to sip whilst you peruse the extensive pizza menu.

 

You start with the antipasti (starters), of which there are an extensive number on the menu. Between you, you order the delicious Zuppa del Golfo Calda - a delicious mix of fruits of the sea - mussels, pippies, octopus and calamari. A mix of seasonal fried vegetables and the Zi’ Filippo -fried pizza dough.

 

You choose your pizzas, then chat and sip your bubbles whilst waiting just a short time for your pizzas to arrive.

 

When they come, the conversation dies down as you all enthusiastically eat your delicious pizza, each exchanging slices so you can taste all the types on the table.

 

It is not long before you start pushing your plates away, your bellies too full to finish the remainder of the pizza.

 

The bill is bought to your table with a round of limoncello - a delicious syrupy lemon liquor.

 

You pay the small amount for your dinner and leave, out into the cooled night with the sky still tinged with azure.

 

There is not much discussion required to all agree that a gelato would go down just perfectly right now….

 

The Funiculì pizzeria is located on Via Il Prato 81r, in Florence Italy. There is also another Funiculì restaurant in the nearby town of Sesto Fiorentino, in Piazza IV Novembre 52.

 

In Florence, the restaurant opens for lunch from Monday to Friday, from 12.00pm to 3.00pm. Both restaurants are open for dinner 7 nights per week, from 7.00pm in Florence and 7.30pm in Sesto Firentino, closing at 1.00am.

 

Tuscans do not eat dinner until at least 8 o’clock at night. In fact, it is perfectly normal to be sitting down to eat at 9 or even 10 in the evening. It is therefore customary to have an ‘aperativo’ before dinner - consisting of a drink and a snack to tide you over until the final evening meal.

 

Or perhaps it is the other way around - the relaxed lifestyle and terrible time-keeping of the Italians makes the aperativo last for so long that dinner is always inevitably late…

 

In any case, it is with this intention that your group of friends stops into San Gimignano this afternoon.

 

This small but well-known Tuscan city has only approximatly 7,000 inhabitants. It’s famed for its contribution to the top-wine list with its Vernaccia, the first wine to be given the distinction of the D.O.C.G. (Denominazione Origine Controllato Garantito) wine classification system, and also one of the few great Tuscan white varieties.

 

In the province of Siena, San Gimignano dates back to Etruscan times, some 300 years BC. Known as the city of towers, the town was once home to dozens of towers, of which only 14 remain. This is actually quite a significant number to have still standing, since many towers in Italy were knocked down throughout history, usually as a symbol of peace, but San Gimignano has been able to maintain so many, and thus earn the tome of the ‘tower city’.

 

It is Sunday in November - and such a spectacularly wonderful day that a few telephone calls are made to quickly organise a lunch befitting this out-of-season warm sunshine.

 

Picnic baskets around town are being packed with some of the local region’s specialties as you and your group of friends pack each persons’ contributions for a lazy afternoon in the park.

 

You all arrive around 1pm, select a table that sits firmly in the sunshine, and start unpacking your goodies. But first, because this is Italy, someone spreads out a floral heavy linen tablecloth over the wooden table.

 

The first thing placed on the table is a large bottle of wine without a label - this has been bought by someone who’s cousin has just released the new wine from last year’s harvest. Next to this is placed a similar bottle, but which contains Tuscany’s ‘liquid gold’ - olive oil. The olive harvest took place just last week, so this new season cold pressed, extra virgin olive oil is foggy with all the flavour and goodness that it contains.

 

Freshly baked bread is placed on the table, on a hand-crafted chopping board which someone notes was made by their grandfather with wood from his olive grove. As the bread is sliced, more delicious wares are placed on the table - grilled capsicum, zucchini and eggplant, which is drizzled with the new oil and freshly chopped herbs.

 

Some fresh goat’s cheese is presented, the soft centre oozing from the white crust of the round form of the cheese as it is sliced open, ready to be spread on the fresh bread. The cheese was made by a neighbour who has a goat farm nearby.

 

With each new item placed on the table, there seems to be a direct link between the person and the item - even the tablecloth was handmade by this person’s nonna when she was a teenager and it has been passed through the family ever since.

 

A bowl is placed in the middle of the table filled with chopped tomato and freshly torn basil leaves - from someone’s garden, of course - as well as peeled cloves of garlic to rub on the bread before putting on the bruschetta tomato mix, followed by a drizzle of the new oil.

 

All seated around the table, the plates and cutlery are presented as you start to indulge on the antipasto. The boys are sent over to start the barbecue in preparation for the cooking of the meat. In true Italian style, the girls, one by one, go over to the barbecue and put in their two cents worth about the wood used, the fanning of the fire, the turning of the meat. 

 

But there is plenty of laughing, and chatter amongst the group. Memories are shared, gossip exchanged and jokes told as the air slowly fills with the smokey perfume of the cooking meat.

 

Firstly, the table is presented with a large tray of grilled ribs. Forks arrive from all directions to take a piece of the meat, but are then discarded as the meat is eaten using their hands. The only moment in which there is more than a second of silence at the table, is when all are consumed with the task of enjoying the delicious meat.

 

The tray of ribs is almost empty. Two remain. Each person has a fork in hand, but is too polite to be the one to take the last two ribs. Luckily, another platter of fresh ribs hot off the grill is placed in the middle of the table. Cheers go up from as forks go out and down, triumphant in their meaty find!

 

Just at the point when hungry tummies are starting to be satiated, yet another lot of meat is placed before you. This time the reward is salsiccia, Italian sausage. The first bite burns your lips, but you are not deterred as you bite in, enjoying the burst of flavour.

 

You wash this meal down with the wine, a typical Chianti blend that has a prominent use of Tuscany’s famous grape - Sangiovese.

 

Content with the delicious lunch, you put your knife and fork together on the plate, lean back and enjoy the feel of the warm Autumn sun washing your face, already paling, as the season fades into the depths of winter.

 

It is therefore with surprise that you smell a new delicious fragrance that makes you open your eyes to see laid out before you a platter with pancetta, thin strips of pork that comes from the stomach. It is extremely fatty, but so delicious that you cannot resist this local delicacy.

 

You steal one piece, re-taking your knife and fork from their positions of defeat to undertake one more battle against the onslaught of flavour!

 

Suddenly one girl, Maria, coaxes another, Alicia, to admit to all that today is actually her birthday. Shyly she admits today is her special day. Cheers go out as there is a flurry of throwing onto the grass any water in the glasses to replace the cups with wine, and all glasses are topped up to contain some ruby liquid as a toast to your friend is announced.  Maria rises from the table and returns with a cake decorated with candles. Alicia is embarrassed as the group starts singing Tanti Auguri to her. How is it that the Happy Birthday tune is the same in seemingly every language?

 

Alicia slices up the cake, the famous Tuscan Torta di Mele (Apple cake) and it is shared out amongst the group. For the second time today, there is silence at the table, which is broken only by a dozen ‘mmmmm’s.

 

As the food finally is finished, the wine all gone and the sun threatens to start its final descent, you all rise and start to clean up.

 

Plates, cutlery, and trays are collected to be taken home. Finally, the linen table cloth is carefully shaken and folded and put away, in a fittingly symbolic gesture for a Sunday afternoon.

 

Cheek kissing everyone goodbye seems to take about an hour as you all continue to talk. The daylight starts to dim and when jackets are required, you realise that it is time to get back home to houses, and to dinner….