panificio

Aka bakery... it's easy to remember because it breaks down into pane (bread) and ufficio (office)... panificio.

I go to the same bakery everyday. It's on the way home from Punkone's school. There's another but it's bigger and faster. There's a man with a dog that camp out in front of mine. The dog was wearing a person's vest for awhile then one day he had on a propper dog coat. The bakery is on a stretch of the street that has a covered walkway, so it's probably a dry spot to sit if you haven't got anywhere else to go.

The bread is separated into bins along the wall behind the counter. There are bretzels (the b is right) and grissini too. On the counter are all the cookies and sweets, a few slices of pizza, some olive bread, donuts and croissants. They call the donuts krafen. The smell of cumin lingers.


Buona sera! With a smile. How nice, buona sera with a smile.

There are two different women who run the bakery, equally nice. They smile at my rough Italian, correct me if I ask, humor me when I need to rely on hand waving and pointing. Once in a while they add a pack of cookies or some sweet bread to my bag. They ask about the kids if they don't come in with me. They wish me a good Sunday on Friday, just in case they don't see me before then.


There are so many different varieties of bread, it's taken us more than a year and a half to decide what our regular favorite is. I just try a different one every time and note how fast it disappears. Well, it's all good, so we were on a rotation of sorts. Finally, I had a whole loaf of a bread that was light and dense at the same time, a light crunchy crust and Matteo said it was awesome. Bingo! Those are the words I need to hear.

So now I know what I want. I usually buy the whole loaf. Still haven't figured out the name of it. But it's always at the end, so I just ask for the bread at the end. That makes them smile and I'm not quite sure why. Sometimes fine, finito, can mean dead if you use it with the wrong verb. Maybe I'm saying something that sounds strange. They'd never tell me so.

I'll add a piece of the bread with cumin if the smell gets me to craving it.

There's a small cooler for eggs and butter, milk and yogurt. I grab a liter of milk while she's weighing the bread. I keep the change in my pocket for the guy at the corner who plays the accordion.


A fine life, this one. I mean yours too ;)