The Lemon Gelato That Changed My Life
A look back at the foods that highlighted my Fall semester studying abroad in Italy.
When I was in college, I had the incredible honor of studying abroad in Rome for a semester. I went to college for Architecture, which of course didn’t end up being my lifelong career — but I adored studying design and traveling. I still do. While I was there, I stayed in a 4th-floor walk-up apartment in Trastevere with another student from my exchange school, whom I barely saw. Outside of classes, most of that semester was spent on my own.
I often woke up to the sound of the noon cannons being fired from Gianicolo Hill and spent the afternoons and evenings wandering around the city. I subsisted mostly on paninis and gelato by day, and far too much Peroni and Heineken by night (after all, I turned 21 while living in Rome). I ate spaghetti and tortellini at home almost exclusively for four months straight.
While living there, I made an effort to grocery shop at the local markets and independent food shops — even though I was terrified of not being able to communicate well or order properly. I had never even been into a butcher shop back home, how was I going to manage it in a completely different country? But at least once a week I stopped into the cheese shop in my neighborhood, and in broken Italian ordered myself a wedge of Brie (you know, the real raw European kind that tastes like soft cultured butter and delicate mushrooms). The guy behind the counter was always kind, and maybe laughed at me a little, but I always felt so excited walking home with my paper-wrapped wedge.
My favorite lasagna was found in Venice — no surprise there as the Northern Italians are known for their indulgent and rich comforting pastas. The best pizza was in Naples, although the rest of the city completely overwhelmed me. My biggest splurge meal was in Florence, in a little restaurant next to my hostel (where I slept in the attic with a gaggle of Australians), around the corner from the Duomo.
I sat myself down for a late steak dinner, sliced into juicy strips, and laid over a bed of frisée and arugula, tossed with pears and gorgonzola. My mouth is watering now just remembering the meal. And because I’m me — I finished it off with a full cheese plate that I ate entirely on my own while the owner and other guests joyfully chatted with me late into the night. It seems like a fuzzy dream now, but the feeling that all of those incredible meals gave me lingers on.
Every single day, and I do mean EVERY SINGLE DAY on my way home from school, I’d stop at the gelato shop at the end of my cobblestone street and order a lemon gelato. I arrived in Rome in August, and it felt like it was blistering hot straight through November. That lemon gelato was my lifeline before I huffed it up the four flights of stairs to my apartment that got narrower and steeper with every floor.
For the first month or so, the woman who ran the shop was not thrilled to see me. I understand why — when I first got there I only spoke English, which is of course not only an arrogant American move but also not even endearing in the way that I looked like I was trying to speak Italian. I got the hint fast and started piecing together Italian sentences PRONTO.
I’d try other flavors at every other gelato shop, but the lemon gelato next to my apartment was so concentrated, so bittersweet, and so life-giving, that I had to have a scoop of it daily. I’ve never had or made a lemon gelato like it since (although the Meyer Lemon Ice Cream recipe written by Stella Parks for Serious Eats comes dang close to being just as satisfying.)
If I got the chance to do it again, I absolutely would. The only thing I’d change is that I’d do MORE. Okay, maybe not more classes. I think I managed to pass all of the classes I took while abroad, but they certainly weren’t the focus of my trip. I’d do more drawing. More lounging about the ruins and sitting quietly in front of Caravaggio’s in dark cathedrals — sketching and photographing everything. Rome is absolutely dripping with detail.
I’d do more traveling. I’d make the effort to get deeper into Emilia-Romagna and down to Sicily. I’d bother to really learn some geography. I’d plan more weekend trips and write it all down so I could remember it better over a decade later.
And obviously, I’d eat more. At that point, I had no idea that I would leave architecture after graduation and jump into the cooking world. I didn’t know I’d spend 5 years making Italian desserts at some of the finest Italian restaurants in New York City — much less what a Michelin-starred restaurant was. But I do now, and I’d search out every kind of pasta I could lay my hands on.
I’d eat every flavor of gelato in the shop, several times over. I’d order cheeses and charcuterie I’ve never heard of in kilos and eat them with my loaf of bread and wine spritzer in the plaza beside my apartment. I’d eat more fish and meat dishes that I was too scared to order back then. I’d dine out more, and cook more produce from the market at home. I’d have more cappuccinos and fewer lattes. And I’d eat that lemon gelato for breakfast every day for the rest of my life.
