Bologna: The Fat City

Experiencing Bologna is not a matter of touring the San Petronio Basilica, climbing the Two Towers, snapping a photograph of the Statue of Neptune and learning a phrase or two in the quick, full-mouthed dialect. In Bologna, the locals stroll under beautiful terracotta porticos, keeping time with the slow pace of the city. Like a plate of thick, eggy tagliatelle with rich ragù, Bologna is a city that should be savoured.

Thin alleyways wind through the city like strands of hand-rolled pasta. Follow the cobblestones for long enough and you are sure to stumble across a trattoria, packed and humming with chatter into the early hours of the morning. The walls are stark brick and uncluttered. With chairs and tables crammed into every centimetre of floor space like a game of Tetris, there’s no room for silly things like interior decoration. Just dish upon dish laden with handmade pasta, steaming soup and crusty pizzas that spill over the plates beneath them.

Winter mornings taste like cappuccinos and hot pastries. Outside, the frosty air tastes like roasted chestnuts. On summer nights the piazzas come to life with locals playing music, talking in tight circles, sharing wine, Campari and antipasto. As summer truly sets in, the land-locked city melts into a steaming puddle of espresso. Day and night, hungry Bolognese spill out of gelaterias, blocking walkways in their clusters. Even when the air outside is thick and frozen, gelaterias are packed with pink-cheeked customers rugged up in coats, scarves and hats, devouring flavours like ricotta with caramelised fig and honey as their extremities blissfully thaw.

From the central Mercato di Mezzo and its spectacular display of hand-rolled pastas, fresh veggies and cured meats that beckon passers-by, to "osterie" hidden down lanes and alleyways where the chefs serve brick-sized slabs of lasagna made just the way Nonna taught them. Bologna, “The Fat City”, should be navigated not with a map but with a fork.