I arrive in Siena for the first time, at the wrong time. It's October and the Palio horse races are over. Gone are the Renaissance contrade costumes, the earthen racetrack and cheering crowds the travel brochures promised. Instead, the bowl-like expanse of Piazza del Campo has been swept clean down to the muted brick paving. A gray haze is coming in from the Tuscany countryside, making Siena look like an overexposed photo.
The piazza is dominated by a large, brick-colored town hall or Palazzo Pubblico and the Torre del Mangia, rising abruptly to cast a long morning shadow on me. I vaguely remember the meaning of the word "mangia." “Tower of the...Eater?” I mutter. Odd name for a tower.
I want to explore Siena on foot and see the Cathedral. But the tower’s strange name, and the prospect of having to line up with other tourists to go inside the cathedral, triggers my sweet tooth. Leaving the piazza, I take the nearest cobblestone street, lined on both sides by tall medieval buildings. Eventually I spot a little pastry shop and go inside.
"Buongiorno," the smiling lady at the counter says, and I echo the greeting. On the shelves are stacks of mysterious discs wrapped in paper. Some are as huge as platters. Upon closer inspection I see the product label on the discs: "Panforte." The labels vary according to flavor variations, like Panforte Margherita, Panforte Fiorito and Panforte Cioccolato. But the one that catches my eye the most is Panforte Nero. The name makes me think of dark nights and imperial naughtiness. So I buy a small disc and thank the lady.
As I take a route towards the Cathedral, I peel away the wrapping. A dark confection is revealed, thick with various nuts suspended in a dense mass. I pull off a piece and eat. Suddenly Christmas explodes in my mouth. The Panforte Nero is sweet and spicy, reminiscent of all the cherished fruitcakes and Christmas breads I have ever eaten in my entire life, and more. I can taste hard-earned Tuscan harvests: almonds, hazelnuts, pine nuts, pistachios, honey, molasses, oranges, citron, cinnamon, nutmeg and allspice, all in one go. I even imagine the excitement of the Palio and Siena’s history in my head.
I walk back to Piazza del Campo to find a few locals gathered in the open, celebrating a friend's personal victory by popping open a few wine bottles. The celebrant is a young man in a business suit and a laurel wreath around his head, strutting around his friends like Nero. He looks like a new graduate. I watch them as I nibble away at the Panforte Nero, and I feel like celebrating, too.
Finishing off my snack, I walk over to the entrance of the Cathedral of Siena. Like a child I stare at its tall, beautiful marble façade, bright white and pink, understanding that it's another surprise gift ready for me to explore.
