En route on our cross-continental move from Singapore to London, we conveniently lined up a vacation to Italy. But it was far more than just a stopover for a pair of frequent fliers. Rather, it was a trip that had been in the making for over a year with Jeff’s nine-person deep family in celebration of his dad’s 60th birthday. This getaway was significant on many dimensions though. Not only were we celebrating a milestone birthday, but the trip also marked the first time in Europe for some, the first visit to Italy for many, and the first family vacation of its kind for this growing brood.
Having studied abroad in Italy and visited my motherland on several occasions, I still firmly rate Italy as my favorite place in the whole world – hands-down, no-contest, nothing-even-compares. As such, I felt an immense sense of responsibility to those experiencing it for the first time. I worried that for some Italy wouldn’t live up to they hype. I wondered how we’d ever be able to get a nine-person consensus on the day’s activities. I stressed.
This resulted in hours, days, and entire weekends of pre-trip planning. I feel like a drug addict coming to terms with a problem as I put pen to paper on this, but honestly, I went into manic-style overdrive researching where to stay, where to eat, and what to do with nine people for ten days in Italy. The result was a carefully formatted four-sheet excel workbook detailing every address of every meal, every cost of every tourist attraction, and every minute note that may affect even a moment of our trip.
When we arrived I established myself as the entirely self-elected tour guide. And I’m fairly certain a self-elected anything is just a dictator.
But once the taste of that first negroni hit my lips, I quickly remembered. We were in the land of la dolce vita. And really, everything was going to be juuuuuuuuuuust fine. I didn’t need to worry about anything or anybody.
And it was way more than just fine. It was the, ‘I don’t have a care in the world’ kind of relaxing.
It was the, ‘my sides hurt from laughing’ kind of fun.
It was the, ‘I can’t believe this is happening’ kind of special.
It was the kind of trip that made me consider using the hashtag #blessed. (Don’t worry, I restrained myself.)
I can attribute a lot of the superlatives of this trip to the backdrop. Italy never disappoints. But in reality I know my traveling compadres made the trip everything that is was.
For most, thinking about a nine-person, ten-day, three-stop vacation with your in-laws conjures up visions of family drama, passive aggressiveness, and countdowns until it’s all over. I don’t mean to gloat, but Jeff’s family (and that fully extends to those that have newly joined) is awesome. There isn’t even one sour apple in this bunch. Even in their day-to-day, they’re everything you want in a traveling companion – easy-going, interested, fun, and spontaneous.
Most importantly, they share my belief that the day’s itinerary should always be planned around the meals. On this trip, we hit-up some of the old standbys, but more excitingly landed on some news gems.
In Rome, we landed on two new (to us) spots that knocked our socks off. We had a raucous family dinner in the alleyway extension of Da Pietro based on the recommendation of Joel’s local friend. It was one of those beautiful dining experiences where food just arrives. Course after course, not a morsel of it went untouched.
For an intimate lunch in Trastavere, Jeff and I initially had our sights on Da Augusto based on the recommendation of an Italian colleague. I was devastated upon arrival when we were met with a ‘Closed for the Month of August’ notice. A swirl of emotions ensued:
- Disappointment that we’d miss out on a local’s recommendation
- Serious jealousy in that the Italians get to take FOUR weeks vacation
- Dismay as it was actually September
But, the silver lining in this story is that we moseyed around the corner to Da Lucia and feasted on the most insane rigatoni a la amatriciana I’ve ever tasted. Now, pretty much every Roman restaurant will have their take of this dish on the their menu. A core ingredient is guanciale so it’s pretty hard to screw up. But there was something magical about Da Lucia’s version that has me scheming for a weekend trip to Rome just for another taste…
In Florence, I had to pay tribute to my go-to jaunts like Il Latini and Trattoria 13 Gobbi that time and time again never let me down.
On our final stop, we took it down a notch in Santa Margherita Ligure on the Italian Riviera. In full confession a lot of our calories here came from the bar snacks at the poolside bar of our hotel – The Hotel Continental. It proved pretty hard to pull ourselves away from this situation.
But one meal was absolutely worth the effort it took to peel ourselves off our loungers. An outing to San Fruttuoso which is accessible only by ferry and featured lunch at Da Laura, was an uncontested trip highlight. This nook of a restaurant is mostly occupied by the kitchen with just a smattering of seats surrounding it. Luckily we scored a few of these choice seats and experienced the piece de la resistance of our dining tour of Italy – lasagna al pesto made on the spot by Laura herself just feet away.
Are you stuffed just hearing about these epicurean adventures? Are you shocked to read that we could have made room for more given the chance? Like so many families, eating together is really what we do best. And while there were non-food related highlights of the trip, the most magical moments – those that can’t be planned or slotted into an itinerary – happened tableside.
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