I'm so embarrassed about this, but I recently discovered that I'd completely forgotten to include a book that I love within the recommendations in my Tuscany and Umbria book. It's embarrassing because this isn't the first time this has happened. Last year I embarked on a major project, which was the reorganization of my bookshelves; yet even though I (with great difficulty) donated bags and bags of books to my local library, I'm afraid books are still housed two and three-deep on my shelves. As a result, sometimes titles are hidden and hard to see. Such is the case with the paperback edition of Brunelleschi's Dome: How a Renaissance Genius Reinvented Architecture by Ross King (Penguin, 2001).

As I wrote in the Introduction to my book, I will never forget the day I first saw Santa Maria del Fiore, Florence's Duomo (seen here in these four photos taken by Peggy Harrison). "As I walked down a narrow street, the name of which I no longer remember, I saw a sliver of it suddenly; as I approached it and discerned the different colors and patterns of marble, I was filled with a warmth and a happiness to be alive I've rarely felt again. Over the years, no matter how crowded Florence becomes, the Duomo will never fail to impress." I still love how you can see that fabulous dome from practically any spot in Firenze, and if you're a little lost, you can always find your way by locating the dome.

Ross King tells the compelling and fascinating story of the building of Santa Maria del Fiore's dome -- which began with an announcement on August 19, 1418 in Florence, where the cathedral had already been under construction for more than a century -- and ended twenty-eight years later. Filippo Brunelleschi "engineered the perfect placement of brick and stone" and defied all who believed his dome would collapse, and "in the proceess, he did nothing less than reinvent the field of architecture."

Santa Maria del Fiore was meant to replace the former church of Santa Reparata, by 1418 quite dilapidated, and it was intended to be one of the largest in Christendom. King tells us that entire forests provided timber for the church and huge slabs of marble were transported along the Arno on flotillas of boats. Santa Maria del Fiore "had as much to do with civic pride as religious faith: the cathedral was to be built, the Commune of Florence had stipulated, with the greatest lavishness and magnificence possible." The designer and original architect of the new cathedral was Arnolfo di Cambio, builder of both the Palazzo Vecchio and the stone fortifications of the city. Though he died after construction began, his plans were continued, and King informs us that a whole section of the city was razed to make way for the cathedral (and, in order to create a piazza in front of the church, not only were the inhabitants of the surrounding district displaced but even the bones of long-dead Florentines were exhumed from their graves surrounding the Baptistery of San Giovanni, which was just a few feet from the building site).

The Wool Merchants guild -- Florence's largest, wealthiest, and most powerful -- oversaw the Opera del Duomo and therefore had the responsibility for building and funding the cathedral. However, since their business was wool, none of the guild members knew anything about architecture, so they appointed a capomaestro (an architect-in-chief) to create the cathedral models and designs as well as coordinate the actual construction. Santa Maria's capomaestro was Giovanni di Lapo Ghini, who built a model for the cathedral's dome. The guild members also requested a second model, from a group led by a master mason named Neri di Fioravanti. While Ghini's model was Gothic, Fioravanti's group rejected the Gothic use of flying buttresses (which were at any rate rare in Italy) and proposed a plan that incorporated a series of stone or wooden chains around the circumference of the dome. Fioravanti had experience with vaulting -- he was responsible for the vaults over the great hall in the Bargello and the arches in the Ponte Vecchio after the old bridge was swept away in the flood of 1333 -- but this plan for the Duomo was far more ambitious. "It was this vision of a massive dome that seemed to rise heavenward without any visible means of support that for the next half century would both inspire and frustrate everyone involved with the project."

At a meeting in August 1367 the plan for the dome was approved by the guild wardens and later endosed by a referendum of Florentine citizens. I find it fascinating that, as King relates, approving Fioravanti's design was a remarkable leap of faith. "No dome approaching this span had been built since antiquity, and with a mean diameter of 143 feet and inches it would exceed that of even the Roman Pantheon, which for over a thousand years had been the world's largest dome by far."

I could go on, but suffice it to say that this book will surprise you, even if you know quite a bit about Santa Maria del Fiore. Of all the trivia I could continue to ramble on about, perhaps the most fitting footnote is that Michelangelo, in the late 1540s after he'd been named architect in chief of St. Peter's, was given three passes into Santa Maria's cupola so he and two assistants could inspect Brunellschi's methods of construction. King writes that Michelangelo was a proud Florentine, and that he claimed he could "equal Filippo's dome but never surpass it. In fact he did not even equal it, for the cupola of St. Peter's, completed in 1590, is almost ten feet narrower and, arguably, much less graceful and striking"

A few weeks ago, Kate McDonough - author of The City Cook: Big City, Small Kitchen, Limitless Ingredients, No Time (Simon & Schuster, 2010) and creator of the wonderful site The City Cook -- wrote a feature in her City Cook newsletter called 'Choosing Olive Oil,' which detailed a visit to the Baroni Alimentari counter in Florence's Mercato Centrale (she and her husband spent two glorious weeks in Florence, where they rented an apartment about halfway between the Duomo and the train station). I am already a Baroni fan (as you can see from the photos above, taken by the talented Peggy Harrison) but if I wasn't yet, I would be immediately after reading Kate's piece because I know that whatever Kate recommends is going to be worthwhile. I followed her on her site for months and actually sent her an e-mail note suggesting she think about writing a book, and I was happy to learn that in fact an editor at Simon & Schuster had already approached her. Later, I read something she wrote about radishes in a post entitled 'Spring Cooking,' and she kindly granted me permission to include it in my upcoming Paris book (publication date: July 12th).

As I included Baroni under the letter B in the Tuscan and Umbrian Miscellany of my book, I won't repeat everything I wrote; but Kate's posting made me unable to resist enthusing once again about this wonderful purveyor of Italian culinary specialties and a great spot for picking up gifts (for others and yourself). I first learned of Baroni from food guru and cookbook author Faith Willinger, but Baroni isn't exactly a secret -- anyone who walks around the interior of the Mercato will eventually find the counter. It's quite large and is on a corner so it's hard to miss. Baroni sells some of the same culinary items as you'll find elsewhere in Florence, but the real reasons to shop here are the smiling, helpful, and knowledgeable staff (who are family members; that's Paola in the photo above), the opportunity to taste olive oils, vinegars, cheeses, and hams, and the items under its own label. In particular, Baroni offers a selection of true balsamic vinegars at good prices, including a set of four tiny bottles of differing ages that are lightweight and easy to pack.

In Kate's piece on tasting olive oils, she covers olive oil basics; notes on the tasting she did with Paola; and afterthoughts on buying olive oil in New York (but which apply to anywhere in North America). I urge you to subscribe to The City Cook's newsletter -- which I think you will really like -- so I don't want to quote too much from it; but I do think some points are worth repeating, like "lesser grades of olive oil, including plain "olive oil" may have been extracted with the addition of chemicals"; and "the color of an olive oil -- from pale gold to vibrant green -- is due to the climate in which the olives were grown and how mature the olives when they were picked"; and, as to why there is such a range in price between one bottle of oil and another ($7 to $42, for example), "mostly the difference has to do with lower priced oils being blends and higher priced ones being artisanal oils grown, produced and shipped by a small producer that carefully cultivates, harvests, and presses its own olives and then packages and carefully ships the oil. But some of the difference is just a triumph of marketing. Another reason we need to taste."

Here's to Baroni and The City Cook!

"To travel through Italy is as close as one gets to being in paradise." That statement -- with which it is hard to argue -- is the opening line in a description of a book that was published after my Tuscany and Umbria book (or else I would have included it in my recommendations). The book is entitled Great Escapes: Italy (edited and compiled by Angelika Taschen, text by Christiane Reiter, Taschen, 2010) and it is the sort of book that sends you straight to your wallet after you've turned the pages because you will want to buy an airline ticket a.s.a.p.!

'Escapes' is the right word to describe these accommodation choices as every one not only captures the spirit of its Italian place but makes you feel as far from your daily life as possible.
Taschen has selected 35 hotels and inns throughout Italy, and while some are famous and expensive (Villa d'Este, Villa Feltrinelli, Hotel Splendido, Il San Pietro, Villa Cimbrone, etc.) the surprise is that a number are quite moderately priced while still being quite appealing, including the Pension Briol near Bolzano (rooms from 72 euros); Locanda Cipriani on Torcello (rooms from 100 euros); Hotel Flora in Venice (rooms from 120 euros); Villa Pisani near Padova (rooms from 170 euros); and the Casa San Ruffino in Montegiorgio (rooms from 110 euros). Even the rates at the hotel featured in the photo above -- Hotel Palumbo in Ravello -- are 200 euros for rooms and 350 euros for suites, which is not inexpensive but is also not the 900 euro rate at the Villa Feltrinelli on Largo di Garda. (Plus, if you want to discuss the finer points of paradiso, Ravello's got all the points covered and then some.)

Color photos accompany each entry, along with practical details but also suggestions for "Book to Pack," which I love. So for the Locanda Cipriani, for example, the recommended book is Hemingway's Across the River and Into the Trees, and for Sextantio Le Grotte della Civita in Matera it's Christ Stopped at Eboli by Carlo Levi, etc. There are 5 recommended properties in Tuscany: Torre di Bellosguardo in Florence (see my book and see my blog notes in 'older posts' for more about this very special place), Villa Bordoni in Greve in Chianti, Adler Thermae in Bagno Vignoni, Castello di Vicarello near Siena, and Il Pellicano in Porto Ercole (about which I will post more later). There are 2 Umbrian recommendations: Palazzo Terranova near Perugia (rooms from 305 euros, villa from 840 euros) and Locanda del Gallo in Gubbio (rooms from 70 euros, including breakfast!).

[For the record, the place in this book that appeals most to me is the Convento di Santa Maria di Costantinopoli in Apulia: no fax, no website, no e-mail address. Nine rooms without television, telephone and internet. Price upon request. Sign me up!]

This is an expensive book, $50, so I recommend it for purchase for true Italian enthusiasts and those who travel a fair amount to Italy or for those very interested in interior design and decorating. Otherwise, borrowing a copy from the library may be a better option. But don't overlook this book when planning your next trip - it is hugely inspiring!

There are only 26 days left to see a wonderful, wonderful exhibit at New York's Metropolitan Museum of Art entitled 'Rooms With a View: The Open Window in the 19th Century.' I say it's wonderful because this is one of those compact shows -- with only about 40 paintings and drawings -- that is not overwhelming, where you can stand for a considerable amount of time in front of each work and leave feeling you know each one quite well. It's a gem of a show, and if you live in the New York area, I encourage you to see it before it closes on July 4th!

I admit I was smitten with the title because I have a special fondness for pictures of open windows. It began when I saw Matisse's painting of an open window in Collioure, a Mediterranean coastal town in the Roussillon region of France near the Spanish border (and one of my most favorite places on earth). Starting with a large, framed poster of this painting, I went on to collect other open window paintings, and now I have a collection of six others on one wall of my bedroom. More than one of them is by Matisse, unsurprisingly as the subject of a recent book that I love attests: Henri Matisse: Rooms With a View (Shirley Neilsen Blum, Monacelli Press, 2010).

The Met's exhibit is jammed with some hugely appealing views, a number of them Italian (though none that are Tuscan or Umbrian). Among the featured artists are some well known names and others who are very much less so, including Caspar David Friedrich (that's his 'Woman at the Window' above), Georg Friedrich Kersting, Vermeer, Louise-Adeone Drolling, Adolph Menzel, Giovanni Battista de Gubernatis, Francois-Marius Granet, Massimo d'Azeglio, Johan Christian Dahl, and Fyodor Petrovich Tolstoy (a relative of the novelist). The accompanying catalog is written by Sabine Rewald (Jacques and Natasha Gelman Curator, Department of Nineteenth-Century, Modern, and Contemporary Art at the Met; she's also the daughter of legendary art historian John Rewald, author of a number of books including the notable History of Impressionism (1946) and Post-Impressionism From Van Gogh to Gauguin, 1956) and is very much worth reading if you are unable to get to the exhibit.

Rewald writes that the Romantic painters found in the motif of the open window "a potent symbol for the experience of standing on the threshold between an interior and the outside world. The juxtaposition of the close familiarity of a room and the uncertain, often idealized vision of what lies beyond was immediately recognized as a metaphor for unfulfilled longing, as evoked in the words of the Romantic poet Novalis (Friedrich von Hardenberg; 1772-1801): "Everything at a distance turns into poetry: distant mountains, distant people, distant events; all become Romantic."

While Rewald acknowledges that the title of this show is borrowed from E. M. Forster's 1908 novel A Room With a View, she admits the inspiration for it is an essay entitled 'The Open Window and the Storm-Tossed Boat: An Essay in the Iconography of Romanticism' by art historian Lorenz Eitner (Art Bulletin, 1955). I have tried in vain to find this essay online, but I certainly haven't given up the search and I'll report back when I've found it.

After I saw this exhibit, I decided to re-read Forster's novel, which I hadn't read for many, many years. I turned to a newer edition than the one I first read, a Penguin Classics paperback with an Introduction by Malcolm Bradbury (2000). I learned from Bradbury that Forster, who died at the age of 90 in 1970, lived through the late years of the Victorian age, two world wars, the Cold War, Vietnam protests, and Richard Nixon, which is quite a lot of history for one person to have experienced. I also learned that though Where Angels Fear to Tread was published first, A Room with a View was really his first Italian novel as he'd been working on it previously and then laid it aside to write two other works. Bradbury also mentions an essay Forster wrote in 1958 entitled 'A View Without a Room,' another essay I have been unable to find online (I did find a reference to a rare printed quarto of the essay but it's available for several hundred dollars).

I'm pleased to say that I loved the novel again, even more than I did the first time. Such memorable characters! Who can forget Lucy Honeychurch, Miss Lavish, Mr. Beebe, Cecil, the Miss Alans, 'In Santa Croce With No Baedeker,' and Miss Bartlett saying, "A view? Oh, a view! How delightful a view is!' And I found myself suddenly overcome by the desire to always reserve a room with a view on future trips. It's not that I haven't long appreciated the value of a view, but on many occasions I've been shown lovely rooms without a view and I've accepted them, happily. But here's the thing of it: a view adds one more dimension to immersion, which is what I ultimately celebrate in each of my books. Any detail that makes travelers feel like they are positively in their destination and nowhere else is what I'm after, and a view achieves this. Yes, true, views always cost more, so the likelihood is that I (and you, too perhaps) won't be able to enjoy them from a hotel window very often; but I will make a great effort to do so in the future.

If you've read A Room With a View you may recall that the Miss Alans did make their trip to Greece and Constantinople, and in fact they went around the world. "The rest of us," writes Forster, "must be contented with a fair, but a less arduous, goal. Italiam petimus." We seek Italy. Indeed, I certainly do, and I presume you do on occasion as well. Here's to seeking and finding rooms with views -- Italian or others -- in our future.

Though in some respects I wish I'd posted this in advance of or on Memorial Day, ultimately it doesn't matter because any of the overseas American cemeteries -- overseen by the American Battle Monuments Commission -- may be visited at nearly any time during the year (it's just that on Memorial Day, there are official programs held at each cemetery). I think it's safe to assume that just about everyone knows about the ABMC cemeteries in Normandy and Somme, France, as well as Flanders Field in Belgium and in Manila, Philippines; but I suspect not many visitors to Italy know about the Florence American Cemetery, where 4,402 American men and women killed in World War II are buried.

Visiting the Cemetery has been on my (too-long) list of things I want to see in and around Florence for quite some time, but I haven't yet visited this site, which is on the west side of the Greve river and by all accounts is lovely and moving. The memorial covers 70 acres and is only about 7 1/2 miles south of Florence (according to the ABMC website, there is even a SITA bus stop on Via Cassia just outside the cemetery gate). It's open from 9 to 5 and there is always a staff member there to answer questions and escort relatives to particular grave sites.

The military dead in Florence represent 39% of the U. S. Fifth Army burials originally made between Rome and the Alps; most died in the fighting that occurred after the capture of Rome in June 1944, and included in this number are those who died in the heavy fighting in the Apennine mountain range just before the war's end [as I note in my book, an outstanding read about this time is Love and War in the Apennines by Eric Newby (Picador, 1983), a captured officer of the British Army who served time as a POW at Fontanellato in the Po Valley near Parma. After many years he decided to write the book because he felt that "comparatively little had been written about the ordinary Italian people who helped prisoners of war at great personal risk and without thought of personal gain, purely out of kindness of heart."]

The ABMC was established in 1923 by Congress and General of the Armies John J. Pershing served as chairman until his death in 1948, when he was succeeded by General George C. Marshall. In addition to the cemetery in Florence, the Commission maintains 23 others on foreign soil, in Europe, North Africa, Latin America, and the Philippines. Currently there are 124,909 American war dead interred in these cemeteries, 30,921 from World War I, 93,238 from World War II, and 750 from the Mexican War.

A Florence American Cemetery booklet may be downloaded with or without pictures from the ABMC website, http://www.abmc.gov/, and there is also a narrated video tour of the cemetery's landscaped grounds, architecture, and works of art. The website also includes details on all the other overseas cemeteries; no new overseas cemeteries have been established since the end of World War II.

A writer for The Philadelphia Inquirer, Jim Winnerman, related in a piece that appeared on Sunday, May 29th that after his visit to the Florence American Cemetery, the 44-year-old guide of his tour group said, "Many of your countrymen died so I could live in freedom. Thank you."

Today, one day after Memorial Day, I offer my own sincere thanks to all of the brave men and women who served and are serving.

Do you know about the Buon Ricordo card? It's a membership card for the Unione del Ristoranti del Buon Ricordo (Associated Restaurants of Good Memories), an association that was founded in Milano in 1964 for both visitors and residents to help promote tourism in Italy. The Buon Ricordo is a private, non-profit group of gastronomic entrepreneurs who support regional cuisine and local specialties and recover recipes based on local traditions and local products. Its motto is Viaggio tra i sapori e i colori della cucina Italiana -- travel through the tastes and colors of Italian cuisine -- and most of the 120-member restaurants are in Italy, but some are elsewhere in the world (Austria, France, Japan, Hong Kong, Luxembourg, Switzerland).

As stated on the Buon Ricordo website, the group's common denominator is "the observance of local traditions, on the unquestionable quality of food, and on the professionally warm welcome to make guests feel at home." Member restaurants may be located in cities or small towns, may be expensive or moderate, or may be family run or formally professional. But they all share a desire to serve good food: "If all roads lead to Rome," the association believes, "many roads lead to restaurants serving authentic Italian meals." A charming aspect of the group is that each member restaurant has its own colorful ceramic plate crafted by Solimene in Vietri sul Mare on the Amalfi Coast -- if you, like me, are a fan of ceramics and have never been here, I promise you will love it! The building was designed by Paolo Soleri and is among the most unique structures in the world, with ceramic pieces pressed into the terracotta and cement exterior. The inside, which is vast, is filled chock-a-block with stacks and stacks of "seconds" (with nary a noticeable mistake), incomplete sets (instead of a dozen of something there might be only ten, so you have to mix and match), and older pieces that have gone out of fashion (I bought eight plates in the shape of a fish that about twenty or thirty years ago were very popular at seafood restaurants on the Amalfi Coast but are no longer), and brand new pieces (which cost more but are still less expensive than regular retail). All of this is on the first floor, while the upper floors are where the ceramics are made. It is completely worthwhile to come here as the prices are very good, plus Vietri is filled with dozens and dozens of other ceramic shops if you want to shop around. It seemed the best prices were at Solimene, but of course you might not find styles or colors you like there, so it's good to know you can walk around and find other wares you prefer. It's also good to know that the Solimene staff happily ships around the world.

But I digress: the Buon Ricordo plates bear the name of the member restaurant, and feature a specialità della casa (house specialty), so that you will see a chicken on one, or a fish, a pig, a wild boar, a vegetable, a fruit, whatever. These piatti del buon ricordo (piatti is plural for plate, piatto) have become collector's items, and if you order the house specialty at any member restaurant the plate is complimentary. I have heard that you receive the plate whether or not you are a Buon Ricordo member, but I can't confirm that personally.

A recent search of restaurants turned up 10 in Tuscany (one each in Florence, San Gimignano, Arezzo, Tirrenia, Volterra, Livorno, Impruneta, Viareggio, and Ristorante Da Delfina in Artimino, one of my own favorites (see previous post just before this one) and 5 in Umbria (two in Norcia, one in Perugia, one in Assisi, and one in Gubbio). Another good reason to join the Association is that there are also Buon Ricordo member hotels, such as the lovely Relais Ducale in Gubbio and the Podere Marcampo Agriturismo in Volterra, with 3 double bedrooms, 2 apartments, and 1 suite -- there are 8 member hotels in Umbria and 3 in Tuscany.

A membership card is free, and some hotel and restaurant discounts are offered to members. I got my card simply by logging on to the Buon Ricordo site and clicking on 'The Card.' However, that was six years ago, and it appears that this function isn't working properly as I type this, so if that's the case when you log on to the site, contact the organization directly and inquire how you may receive a card:

Unione Ristoranti del Buon Ricordo

Segreteria operativa:

Corso Italia 10, 20122 Milano

(39) 02.80582.278 / e-mail: segreteria@buonricordo.com

Writer Jorge Luis Borges once opined that "I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library." I could not agree more, which won't surprise anyone who knows me personally or through my Collected Traveler books. So when I saw a copy of a book entitled Unpacking My Library: Architects and Their Books (edited by Jo Steffens, with an essay by Walter Benjamin / Yale University Press in association with Urban Center Books, New York, 2009) I eagerly picked it up...and happily bought it. The inspiration for this wonderful idea came from a talk on book collecting at Cooper Union in New York in 2006, which led in turn to the original version of the essay "Unpacking My Library" from Walter Benjamin's book Illuminations, which then led to the notion of photographing and exhibiting architects' libraries.
I love this idea. I don't know about you, but I always want to know what books are in someone else's library, especially the library of a fellow travel enthusiast, an artist, a novelist, a journalist, or a writer of any kind. In the same way, I want to know what books an art historian has in his or her library, or a photographer or a musician (and even better, for a musician, is what albums he or she listens to). Editor Steffens notes in the Preface that "Unpacking My Library has appeal beyond the world of architecture, for it affirms the importance of books in our lives. As you browse the books shown in these pages, a familiar title will spark recognition; an idea or converstion may be recalled. Not unlike Proust's famous madeleine, books are laden with powerful associations, and through them we share common histories and develop personal relationships."

We are privy to the libraries of a dozen of the world's leading architects in this book: Stan Allen, Henry N. Cobb, Liz Diller and Ric Scofidio, Peter Eisenman, Michael Graves, Steven Holl, Toshiko Mori, Michael Sorkin, Bernard Tschumi, Tod Williams and Billie Tsien. The sizes of these libraries range from 750 to 6,000 copies! Not only do we get to see their books spine out on their shelves, but each architect shares their lists of their top ten influential titles -- from architectural history to theory to fiction and nonfiction -- and it is these lists that I find fascinating. For example, I don't think it would have been easy to predict that Gravity's Rainbow by Thomas Pynchon appears on three architects' lists, or that titles like The Omnivore's Dilemma by Michael Pollan, Light in August by William Faulkner, and Moby Dick appear on others (for the record, I never even attempted to reach Gravity's Rainbow, having struggled to get through V, though I loved The Crying of Lot 49). On the other hand, I wasn't surprised (but was still happy) to see Harold and the Purple Crayon by Crockett Johnson on the list of Tod Williams and Billie Tsien ("the ultimate dream of architecture -- you can draw your world the way you want it to be"), The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs on the list of Michael Sorkin, and The Four Books of Architecture on the lists of Michael Graves and Peter Eisenman, who notes "without The Four Books on Architecture of Palladio no one would have cared about Palladio. A book lasts longer than a building; books are more important in the world than buildings." Additionally, Complexity and Contradiction in Architecture by Robert Venturi appeared on three short lists, again unsurprisingly.

All of this has given me an idea: I'm going to unpack a lot of other people's libraries! I'll compile a regular feature both on my blog and within the pages of my books about the books that people I meet (or already know) collect. As often as I can I'll include photos. First up will be books about Tuscany and Umbria and any of the cities, towns, and villages of these regions. This should be interesting - stay tuned!