Wednesday, 25 September 2024, Bologna: churches, food, anatomy, and pasta

Written 6 February 2025

"Due Torri," the name of our hotel in Verona, turns out to be a chain of high-end hotels, and the Grand Hotel Majestic in Bologna is clearly under the same ownership and management. In fact, the "due torri" are almost certainly the two trademark towers of Bologna rather than anything to do with the hotel in Verona. So we got all the same toiletries, the same "juice boxes" of complementary mineral water, even the same half-pound tasseled fobs on our room keys as at the other one.

We got pretty much the same breakfast choices as well. Here's the table of cold cuts and cheeses (at the back of the cheese selection, wedges and irregular chunks of Parmesan.

The array of cakes and pastries seemed a little better, though, and I didn't see as many prepackaged gluten-free options (although gluten-free choices were included).

At the left here is a photograph, displayed in the lobby, of the restaurant's dining room, featuring its painted ceiling, also the work of the Carracci brothers. I find it much less to my taste, though, because the decorations consist mainly of that sparse, spindly style with "grotesques," which I find, um, grotesque.

I much preferred this angularly domed skylight in the lobby itself. I think it's probably modern and may even be artificially backlit rather than a real skylight, but I liked the fruit motif.

We started the day at 9:20 am with an extra-long walking tour of the old city. It started with Neptune Square. At the let is the Palazzo di Re Enzo (King Enzo's palace). It's now an event venue and tourist center. The festival tents are à propos of a trade fair for ceramics used in construction. At the right is Neptune himself, standing tall atop a monumental fountain. Unfortunately that's the best photo I managed to get of him.

Written 8 February 2025

The fountain is 16th century, 1563 (Renaissance). An Italian architect from Palermo (Tommaso Laureti) designed the fountain, but the statue is by Flemish sculptor Giambologna. Maserati, which was founded in Bologna before moving later to Modena, took the trident from the fountain as its symbol.

Bologna was one of the papal states for a long time, and Pope Pius IV invested a lot of money in the city, including paying for the square and the fountain. The quartered crest on the fountain is the crest of the city. It reads "Libertas," and it includes the six balls of the Medicis (Pius was a Medici). The fountain is all gravity driven from tanks up in the hills behind the city, and it's always been purely decorative—it was never intended to supply potable water.

I think our guide was talking about this fountain when she told us that the the market people used to wash their vegetables in it, but the pope didn't like that, so he had an iron fence built around it. A little spigot was installed outside the fence for vegetable washing. I see no fence today, so either it's been taken down or she was talking about some other fountain.

Across the square from the palace is the Sala Borsa (left), now he city's public library. On its facade is a large memorial to the city's resistance fighers who died during WWII. Maybe two-thirds of the names are accompanied by photos of the individuals; the rest show just memorial wreaths.

Our next stop was the Piazza Magiore, the Main Square.

At the right here is the city's old town hall, dating to the 13th century. Its clock tower is open to visitors. What the guide called the "cease-fire balcony" is in front of the "red room," where civil weddings take place.

Over the door of city hall is the statue of Bologna native Pope Gregory XIII that I wrote about it yesterday's diary, the one disguised to protect it from Napoleon.

As we crossed the square from the town hall to the Basilica of San Petronio (patron saint of the city), I spotted this curious creature, wearing a sort of insect head and red checked balloon trousers on its way somewhere. Slung across its front it had a large accordion-style balloon pump, and over one arm, a sword and several hearts made of twisted balloons, so maybe there was a children's party somewhere in the neighborhood.

Written 10 February 2025

Here, at the right, is the unfinished façade of San Petronio. It was supposed to be faced entirely with marble, but (the usual story) they ran out of money halfway up. The upper part is stone. You can still see the holes, left to support scaffolding, that never got covered. The pink marble comes from Verona, the white from Istria (in Croatia). This region has no local marble, so the buildings are built of local brick, and a lot of the decoration is terra cotta. It also has some local yellow sandstone, which is easily carved but wears away quickly.

The pavement we were walking on is early 20th century, nice stone slabs. More festival tents were going up.

We left the Piazza Maggiore (on our way to the famous two towers) by Old Fish Market Street, the first of a veritable maze of tiny pedestrian streets lined with restaurants and food shops. At the left here is one of the first elaborate window displays we passed. You can tell it's heavily tourist oriented (as opposed to "authentic") because (a) it has some of everything (dry pasta, fresh pasta, cheeses, breads, vinegar, whole hams, other cold cuts, wine) rather than specializing, (b) a lot of the dry pasta is colored, and (c) some of the colored pasta is in the shape of hearts, bunches of grapes, and even the facade of the town hall and the basilica!

The window at the right at least features just one thing—Parmesan cheese. The wedges range in age from 20 months (at the right, 22.90 euros/kg) to 36 months (31.90 euros/kg) to 100 months (the darker yellow wedges at the left (99.00 euros/kg). Some of the wedges have more elaborate labels, presumably specifying better sources. The unlabeled wedges at the far right are "Grand'Italia" (not actually Parmesan, 18.90 euros/kg). Across the top are 40- and 48-month wedges, and a larger sign reads "Please don't stand in front of the window."

The window at the left here features pasta, mostly tortelle and tortellini. In the back right corner is a bin of tagliatelli (flat noodles), and in the back left a pile of cheese, clearly not Parmesan. In the front are a couple of pans of lasagna.

The window next door displayed some fresh pork, speck, pancetta, and capicola, but mostly lots and lots of mortadella, which is apparently the most popular and celebrated local cold cut.

Here's a small display of fresh fish, just to show that not all the fishmongers are gone. Left to right, the bins are labeled "mixed soup," suri (horse mackerel?) and squid, anchovies, and sardines.

This wonderful map was mounted beside one store window, showing where products of the region come from, from pancetta in the far northwest through Parmesan and vinegar to olive oil and flatbread in the far southeast.

This shop featured whole Parma hams (prosciutto) as well as prepared foods and fresh meat. right-to left above the hams are "costoletta alla Valdostana (breaded stuffed veal chops), breaded medallions of mozzarella (presumably for frying), foil pans of vitello tonnato (rare roast veal with tuna sauce), then raw pork. Behind them, kabobs ready for grilling. The whole hams are "San Danielli," which we learned last year in Venice are the best.

At the right is a window full of "tortine all'Amarena," tarts filled with Amarena cherries. Amarena cherries are cherries preserved in a special syrup, definitely not like Maraschino cherries, but intense and delicious. I love them! In addition, there's a pile of "marrons glacés" (glacé chestnuts).

Okay, just a couple more. Here's a pastry window with pine-nut tarts in the front, square apple puff pastry tarts to the right of them, another pile of marrons glacés, and at the far left, foil tins of Bologna's trademark rice pudding.

At the right, a display of prepared items to be reheated at home: left to right, dishes of gnocchi alla romana (dumplings covered with melted cheese), several kinds of arancini, and tigelles (little round breads of which more anon). Arancini, which means "little oranges," are actually croquettes, typically made from left-over risotto with amendments. Those in the front are filled with spinach and with radicchio and Brie. The ones in the back are filled with cooked ham and cheese and with ragu and peas. In the center are "mozzarelle in carrozza"—literally "mozzarella in a carriage"—fried cheese sandwiches with cooked ham.

Emerging from the warren of food streets, we found ourselves at the famous two towers. The left-hand photo shows their lower sections and the right-hand one most of their upper sections.

Both towers were built in the 12th century and both started to lean before they even got to the Renaissance. The larger one is almost 100 m tall, and the other started out at 60 m, but they lowered it to 40 when it started to lean badly. Now it's leaning so badly (well past the angle of Pisa) that it is predicted to fall within months from now if current stabilization efforts are not successful. Needless to say, both towers are currently closed to visitors.

Our next stop was the Basilica of Santo Stefano, a complex of seven churches, of different vintages, that sort of "grew together" as they were built and expanded. We were shown four of them, plus a courtyard and a cloister, and I confess I had trouble keeping them all straight, in particular which photos were in which church. Some have been deconsecrated and preserved as historical monuments, but at least a couple are still used for church services. The one most commonly used is heated in winter.

At the left here is the main façade, as we initially approached. Going in through that entrance, we found ourselves in this nave (the "church of the crucifix," I think). It had a round balcony for displaying holy relics.

During the tour, I was struck by this dramatic grave marker. It was set flush with the floor, and as you can see from the pair of toes at the left-hand edge, I've rotated the image 90° to turn the image right-side up. I haven't managed to decipher the inscription, but you can make out the word "Christ" a couple of time, "sepulcher," and a date at the bottom in Roman numerals.

Nearby was this grandiose pulpit with a gated grotto beneath it.

The second church, entered through the first, was the church of the holy sepulchre.

The third was named for two Bolognese whose names I didn't catch (martyrs, I think), and inside that, there's a fourth.

One of them is round; it was once a Roman temple and has both marble columns from the Roman times and some brick ones added later.

Along the way, windows were set into the floor through which one could see fragments of Roman mosaic floors below.

Here's a more complete mosaic fragment.

The windows were glazed with thin slices of amber-colored alabaster.

The complex is called the Bolognese Jerusalem because of all the references to Jesus and replicas of features from his life. For example, an iron gate leads to two tombs, one a replica of Jesus' and the other the former tomb was St. Petronius. Both are empty, because of course Jesus's would be and because Petronius' bones have been moved (to his basilica, I think).

I think the guide said that the complex was founded in the 4th century.

The courtyard at the left here is named for Pontius Pilate; the basin in the center represents where he washed his hands.

Back when the monastery was founded, this area was still countryside, so the monks grew vines and offered wine and food to visitors.

Sorry my account of Santo Stefano is so disjointed; if you're interested, I'll bet Wikipedia would be happy to explain it all more clearly!

Written 11 February 2025

From the triangular plaza in front of Santo Stefano, I got this shot (along the Via Santo Stefano) of an especially nice assortment of Bologna's famous "porticos"—covered sidewalks. The original porticos were wooden and were intended to protect outdoor displays of merchandise from the shops, but they proved to provide a good base on which upper floors could be expanded toward the street, so they began to be built of more substantial materials. The city has about 62 km of them now, and I must say they're very convenient for walking in the hot sun or in the rain.

Along the way, we encountered Bologna's "jazz walk of fame," featuring several plaques set in the sidewalk commemorating American jazz musicians like Chet Baker, Sara Vaughn, Miles Davis, and Dizzy Gillespie. Who knew?!

In the Piazza Marco Minghetti (1818–1886), unusual in being ringed with vegetation, including shrubs, lawn, and trees, is this monument to Minghetti himself, an Italian economist and statesman who was twice prime minister of the nation.

And a few blocks later, in the Piazza Galvani, I spotted this statue of Luigi Galvani (1737–1798), discoverer of "bioelectricity." His name gives us the word "galvanize," meaning to shock to attention. He didn't invent the process of galvanizing metal (coating it with zinc to prevent rust), but its inventors took the name from him, since the original process involved electroplating.

Our destination for this leg of the tour was the historic buildings of the University of Bologna. The ceiling of this hallway is painted with noble coats of arms, many of students of the university.

As the inscription over the doorway at the right states, this library was built by Pius IV (remember him?). The shield at the top bears the six balls of the Medicis.

Here we are in the famous 1637 anatomical theater, where the lecturer stood in the raised pulpit in the background, technicians (or whatever they were called at the time) dissected corpses on the white marble slab, and the students crowded the bleachers around the sides. We got to sit on those self-same bleachers while our guide held forth. Needless to say, anatomy lessons were limited to the cold months of the year.

Actually they were not really the self-same bleachers because in January of 1944 a bombing raid crushed most of the building. Fortunately, no fire ensued, so most of the statuary and some of the woodwork survived, and the whole thing could be reassembled later. The slab is not the original (which is in a museum elsewhere) but a replica. Darker wood elements are old; lighter ones from the 1950s restoration.

In the center of the ceiling is a painting of Apollo, Roman god of medicine. The full-length statues and figures around the walls are doctors from antiquity, like Galen, together with contemporary (i.e., 17th century) ones. One of the latter is holding a nose (not his own but somebody else's); he pioneered skin grafting for reconstruction.

Written 15 February 2025

The photo at the right shows the large hall where law lectures were held. It was also used for the ceremonies at the inauguration of the academic year, those welcoming visiting professors, and other special occasions. The big eagle on the wall represents the Austrohungarian or German cardinal ruling Bologna at the time, and it's surrounded by coats of arms of German-speaking students from Switzerland. The low book cases around the walls held part of the university library each shelf labeled with a different subject: geology, paleontology, hydrology, hydraulics, etc.

A long hallway lined was lined with black wooden doors leading to smaller classrooms.

When Napoleon occupied the city, he moved the academic activities out of this building and into another that was less thickly festooned with symbols of papal power.

Working our way back toward our starting point, we came to St. Petronius again, and this time we got to go inside. As you can see in this view down the nave, it was quite light inside. It has no dome but very tall vaulting with graceful late Gothic (16th century) arches. Red and white are the colors of Bologna.

On the floor was another of those lines that marked noon each day when a beam of light crossed it, as well as indicating the date by the point at which it crossed. This plaque at the midpoint marks the vernal and autumnal equinoxes. The solstices were indicated by plaques at the two endpoints. The numbers along the line that are too high to be dates (43, 44, 45, . . .) are the length of the line in French feet; Napoleon was in charge here until 1816.

Nearby, a full-size statue of Saint Petronius (bishop in Roman times), with miter and crook, stands guard, a model of the city at his feet.

At the left is a nearer view of the apse. Saint Petronius's tomb at Santo Stefano is empty because his bones were moved here when this basilica was built. You can see organ pipes beyond the altar; two sets flank the apse; they're 16th century but still in working order. The acoustics are quite good, so classical concerts are held here; the apse is large enough for an orchestra.

At the right, Christ reclines in a little grotto underneath the pulpit—apparently a popular motif in local churches—representing Christ in his tomb. He's bronze with a reddish wash to match the marks on the holy shroud of Turin.

The church's most controversial feature is a huge, late 15th century mural painting of the last judgement (in a side chapel), heavily influenced by Dante, in which Mohammed is depicted (and labeled, lest any doubt remain) sitting at the right hand of Satan. It and the church are carefully guarded, as bomb threats have been made.

The guided tour ended at Saint Petronius, so our guide pointed out the street, the Via Indipedenza, that was laid out in the 19th century to connect the train station to the center of town and that would lead us back to our hotel. It's straight and wide and 1.5 km long. Other information that she added:

• Bologna is the capital of Emilia-Romagnna
• Its population is 100,000
• It hosts 80,000 students (that must be in addition to the population)
• The east-west road by the main square is Via Risoli, an old Roman road
• A raviole is a cookie baked with jam inside, also typical of Bologna

After the tour, we went back to the little shopping street and sat at an outside table at Vecchia Malga (The Old Mountain Hut) for lunch. I had tortellini in brodo (in broth), David had lasagna (the man has a positively Garfieldian relationship with lasagna), and . . .

. . . we split a cold-cut board—raw ham, cooked ham, mortadella, and capicola—with three cheeses (ricotta, grated Parmesan, and a sort of herbed cream cheese). The little white paper bags you can just make out at the edges of the photos contained warm tigelle, the little round breads mentioned above. Each could be pulled apart like a miniature English muffin and used to make a sandwich of cold cuts, with or without cheese. All delicious!

For dessert, we had gelato cones from a shop we passed on the way back to the hotel, but before we even got back to Via Independenza, more food displays caught my eye and my camera. At the right here is a dairy shop, dislaying cheeses (local and imported) and fine butters.

Here's a variety of tomatoes of different colors, including greenish mottled "zebrinos," 5 euros/kg.

This assortment of fruits is pretty standard—figs, white peaches, yellow peaches, nectaries, apples, oranges, miyagawa clementines, prune plums, white grapes—except for the big bins of jujubes ("giuggiole") in the center, 12 euros/kg. I've never seen those for sale except in China. They're the size of large olives and have a single, elongated pit like an olive, but the skin and flesh are more like those of an apple, you just munch them out of hand, biting the flesh off the pit.

Here are slabs of beef, ready to be chopped into T-bone steaks, the cut favored for steak Florentine.

And at the right red-speckled beans both in the pod and shelled, green beans, Brussels sprouts, plum tomatoes, and wrinkly-necked heirloom tomatoes.

Our stroll up Via Indipendenza afforded us this better view of the taller of the two towers. From this angle, its lean is not as apparent. You can see its shorter partner to the left of it.

My overall impression was that it was gray inside.

But more color was apparent as we got closer to the apse and finally to the altar.

We had a little time to rest up in our rooms before the next scheduled acivity—a pasta-making class! Here we are, tricked out in our matching Due Torri Hotels logo aprons.

Each of us was assigned a work station equipped with a pastry board, a fork, a cup of premeasured flour, two fresh eggs, a scraper, a device with four rolling blades for cutting pasta, and a rolling pin.

Following the teacher's instructions, we got busy mixing the flour and eggs to make a neat ball of dough. They hadn't measured the ingredients very accurately, so although my batch turned out perfect, David's was way too wet.

Written 24 February 2025

That wasn't a problem, though, because we didn't actually continue work with the dough we had made. After mixing, the dough has to rest for a while, so ours were wrapped and set aside, and we were each issued a wrapped glob of dough made earlier and properly rested.

All local pasta shapes are based on the "sfoglia," a sheet of pasta dough rolled out thin. Traditionally, a whole group of women work as "sfoglilne"—pasta rollers out. Here is my sfoglia, together with (in the corners of the board) the wrapped glob of dough I made earlier, a little dish of cheese filling, a big pinch of flour for dusting the dough while I rolled, and a small splodge of raw meat filling.

At the right is my pasta-making in process. As instructed, I used the rolling cutter to make some of my sfolia into small squares and some into large squares. Here, I'm about to shape a meat-filled tortillono from a large square.

And here is my finished output: a dozen meat-filled tortellini (left-over meat filling at the lower left), five cheese tortelloni and two meat-filled ones, and a handfull of fettucini. The left-over trimmings can be used to make malfatti or maltagliati (i.e., "badly cut" noodles) or chopped very fine to serve as pastina.

Next came cocktail hour arranged for our group. The chef made me a special plate of cocktail munchies that omitted the avocado that riddled most of the regular ones.

The dinner that followed featured the pasta shapes (though not the actual pasta) we had made. At the right is my bowl of tortellini in brodo.

My main course was breast of guinea fowl with mashed potatoes and a roasted carrot.

The dessert was described on the menu as "trifle," which is clearly their translation for zuppa inglese.

Followed by mignardises and a nice cup of mint tea.