Trattoria Fantoni: neighborhood glue

Pleased to make my acquaintance with Via del Pratello 11, a cheery spot so obviously adored by the locals. Hugs are given and received, decanters outnumber bottles, and all the menus are handwritten in a tight cursive ― and dated. For a stranger in these lands, it is a fizz on the brain and a reminder to us non-Italians that a healthy give-and-take with caring local institutions is all that protects us from the Olive Gardens of the world.

Trattoria Fantoni is so quintessentially of Bologna that I was compelled to order one of the city's signature dishes, the tagliatelle al ragu, which doesn't invite exaltation. It is what it is, but I gotta say I'm really into the flat-ish egg noodles after a few days here, and fresh pasta just seems weightier and more satisfying than the stuff I'm used to.

Dessert was a chilled bowl of mascarpone with big chunks of chocolate here and there. I left a modest tip and the proprietress, as is the cafe's custom, rang a bell in celebration. A fan has sketched a very good likeness of her on a piece of corrugated cardboard, and it hangs, framed, on the wall.

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336 hours in Bologna

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