Left my heart in Torino – 2

From the mercato…

We went to the market in the morning.

My host dad had a stall at the bustling Mercato Santa Rita and when we arrived he was busy with some regular customers, who nevertheless were glad to interrupt their animated discussions over fruit to inspect the newcomer.

Literally la dolce vita

Wanted to buy all the lovely food on display, but in the end I settled for bags of sweets, including a big handful of gianduiotti – a decision I would regret back home. Should have bought a kilo of those chocolates. Turin, after all, has been a chocolate capital since the 17th century, when the first chocolate house opened with royal permission.

Today, Turin and Piedmont account for 40% of Italian chocolate production (or so I read), and the distinctive gold-wrapped gianduiotti is as much an emblem of the city as the Commedia dell’Arte character it is named after, Gianduia.

…to the first-ever Eataly

Where else would it be but Turin?

Next stop was another marketplace: the massive artisanal wonderland in the Lingotto district.

I had an unforgettable plate of pasta (again!) for lunch. Nothing complicated, just basil and tomatoes, a hint of pesto and a gorgeous burratina. Halfway through it I was already starting to worry: how does one go back to eating ‘regular’ food after the sublime pleasures of grazing in la bella Italia?

It’s difficult to choose a favorite section, but I think it would have to be that treasure house of cheese, with a sign on the door that gently stated: l’accesso è consentito solo alle persone che amano e rispettano i formaggi.

That’s just beautiful.

Prayer after the meal

After lunch we made our leisurely way to church.

The 19th-century Gran Madre di Dio is inscribed in Latin with The Nobility and the Population of Turin for the Return of the King, commemorating the sovereign’s return to the throne after Napoleon’s defeat. King Victor Emmanuel I, newly restored, used to make his stately progression from the Palazzo Reale, across the Po River on the bridge that now bears his name, to the church every Sunday for mass.

There are no more royal processions to be gawked at in these egalitarian days, but we are allowed to step inside the hallowed spaces and admire the soaring architecture. I silently added another entry to my visita iglesia list, and sent a little prayer of thanks heavenward.

Back outside in the blazing sunshine – but chilly enough to keep coats on – we stopped for coffee, and I sipped my marocchino (espresso + foamy milk + cocoa powder) and seriously pondered how to relocate to Turin.

You would have to learn how to parallel park, said my host, ever practical.

This is a worrisome consideration but I can’t argue. All along the streets are blue- and white-marked lanes into which the law-abiding residents of Turin pull their compact Fiats and Alfa Romeos. No chaos here, none of the slightly haphazard manner that I associate with Amsterdam, where you fear the cars might topple into the canals.

Not only will I have to perfect this parking technique; I will also have to acquire the insouciance with which they do it.

A royal visit

Late afternoon found us on the grounds outside the Palazzina di caccia di Stupinigi, a royal hunting lodge. The residences of the House of Savoy are on the UNESCO World Heritage List, and this graceful castle – it could not be called a mere lodge by any stretch of the imagination – was one of them.

Doing my best peasant impression outside the palace gates

Chivalry is not dead

In the evening, the parents took us out to the nearby town of Pinerolo, which used to be a royal fortress.

It is the center of chivalry, they explained to me in their charming accents. There is a cavalry school here.

A center of chivalry. How fun is that? I swiveled my head around the historical streets that had suddenly taken on a much more romantic aspect, hoping to catch a glimpse of mounted knights from ages past.

Sweet endings

Dinner was at the Trattoria Zappatori, a hushed one-Michelin star serving traditional Piedmontese cuisine. Commanding pride of place in a dark and elegant dining room was a cabinet of cheese. Today has been an absolutely splendid day for cheese-spotting, no?

These are really very good, my host murmured as we walked past.

Can I, you know, take food shots here, I whispered back. He looked at me like I had said something uncouth (and maybe I had), so for the rest of the evening I confined myself to surreptitious snaps.

The wine flowed freely and so did the conversations; we capped the evening with a pleasant stroll outdoors, arm in arm, and again I thought, I really don’t want to leave.