From
The Sunday Times Travel Magazine, September 2008
Outsiders have always struggled to define Bologna; that’s why they’ve given it
so many nicknames: la grassa (the fat); la rossa (the red); la dotta (the
learned).
But to its citizens, it’s ‘the town of three Ts’: torri, tortellini e tette
(towers, tortellini and tits). This is a city proud of its history, its food
– and its looks.
In the Middle Ages, Bologna was among the wealthiest cities in Europe, thanks
to its prolific silk industry and its university, the oldest in the West.
Families marked their affluence by building towers, sticking them like
spears into the skyline as a sharp reminder of their power.
By the 14th century, almost 200 towers scraped the skyline. Now only 20 are
left. The silk industry has also gone, replaced by equally sleek business:
Ducati, Ferrari and Lamborghini are all based nearby.
The university, though, remains; and in a city that throbs with the liberal
minds of students, the left-wing streak that earned Bologna its ‘red’
soubriquet is alive and kicking. Rebellion mingles with tradition: graffiti
framing a fresco of the Madonna; scruffy students sitting beside pearl-clad
old ladies; the old bakery, now a modern art gallery.
But life today is lived through the stomach. Only the Bolognesi would draft a
law to protect their handmade pasta from industrial imitation. And the mere
mention of spaghetti bolognese – a foreign moniker thrust upon their beloved
tagliatelle al ragù – is a personal affront.
As the sun cools down in autumn, people keep warm with plates of steaming
pasta, while the food markets are piled with enough obscure veg to baffle
even Jamie Oliver. Home to prosciutto, balsamic vinegar and Parmesan, the
Emilia-Romagna region is Italy’s larder; Bologna is the capital.
BOLOGNA THE FAT
Start at Bologna’s traditional meeting place, sotto il culo (‘under the arse’)
– that’s the fleshy posterior of Giambologna’s bronze Neptune, who lords it
over his fountain as you enter Piazza Maggiore. The vast, barn-like building
opposite – the Basilica di San Petronio – is Bologna’s defiant V-sign to the
papacy. Owned by the commune, rather than the Catholic Church, it not only
dwarfs the official Cattedrale di San Pietro (on Via dell’Indipendenza),
it’s also one of the biggest religious buildings in the Catholic world.
If it’s morning, follow your nose to the Mercato di Mezzo, the ample belly of
Bologna, where the air is thick with pungent produce. Grab some cheese
(there are 21 types of pecorino alone) or salami at La Baita (Via Pescherie
Vecchie 3/A). Then join the thirsty troops at Bologna’s oldest inn, the
Osteria del Sole (Vicolo Ranocchi 1/D), where you can eat your own food.
Come prepared, though: a 500-year history has enshrined hard-core drinking
hours, with regulars filling its pews from 8.30am and a wine list whittled
down to just four options: red, white, still or sparkling.
l Nip into the church of Santa Maria della Vita (Via Clavature 10) to catch
its extraordinary sculpture, the Lamentation over the Dead Christ – Mary’s
face is like the agonised expression in Munch’s painting The Scream. Then
head out past the sugar rush of Atti’s cake-filled windows (Via Drapperie 6)
to 75-year-old deli Tamburini (Via Caprarie 1), where legs of prosciutto
hang from the ceiling, and the tortellini are sold by the kilo.
It's nice to read about your own town from a different point of view!
Just one mistake: the adress of Majani, the shop where to buy chocolate actually is in Via Carbonesi 5; the phone number is correct.
Silvia Lolli, Bologna, Italy