The Duca D'Amalfi pasticceria

Piazza Celestini, almost directly in the city center. Good spot for prayin', pastries.

I am the least foodie-est person I know and remain shockingly untutored in manners of Italian cuisine, so it's a bit odd that when in Italy I lie awake at night thinking about what I'm going to eat the next day. This country makes you do it. Staring at the ceiling last night it occurred to me that I have never had a sfogliatella (or even a latte macchiato, for chrissake) and was able to remedy those two shortcomings by popping into Il Duca D'Amalfi in Bologna's very pretty Celestini square.

Entering this shop, the only thing I knew about sfogliatella is that Christopher Moltisanti thought it worth shooting a pastry clerk over a box of the stuff in Season 1 of "The Sopranos" ― so I really wanted one. As far as the latte macchiato goes, I had no idea I would be afforded the tactile pleasure of pouring my own shot of espresso into a glass of frothy steamed milk. Now it's all I want to do.

 

I opted for the riccia, or curly, puff pastry version of the sfogliatella. You can also get the shortcrust kind here, called a sfogliatella frolla. The filling is an eggy, sugary melange of ricotta and dried fruit, and the pastry emphatically crackles when you bite into it. The cornetti con crema, or cream-filled croissants, are all over Bologna ― the sflogliatella, not so much; it's more of a southern thing. Service is a bit stiff and formal at Duke's, but honestly we could use a little more of that these days.

Sfogliatella at top, along with a cream-filled croissant. After shoving these in my mouth, and now in full Bolognese mode, I looked at the clock and could think only: "Damn, it's two hours until the trattorias open."

I intended to visit Sicily but couldn't make the connections work. For Campania-style pastries in Bologna, Il Duca D'Amalfi might be your best bet.

Kitty-corner from the cafe is the richly ornamented Church of the Celistini, which holds the remains of the Renaissance sculptor Nicola dell'Arca. A plaque on the wall describes him as "he who gave life to stones," and who in death is adored by the ancient Greek sculptors Praxiteles, Phidias and Polyclitus, who "marvel at thy hands, O Nicholas." I'd be happy with a eulogy of "He never done me wrong," so yeah, go Nick.

The apse of the Chisea dei Celestini. A bit of trompe l'oeil gives some depth.

This building is directly opposite the church. I am embarrassed to say I never heard of the late Italian singer-songwriter-instrumentalist Lucio Dalla until today, but a lady in a crowd gathered under his balcony was kind enough to fill me in. A petition has been circulated to rename the square in his name, but the papers say it's a long shot.

Lucia Dalla's old residence. Born and buried in Bologna.