You know when your best girlfriend has been trying to set you up with this friend of hers for years and all she does is talk him up and drop little hints into every conversation and mention that he still happens to be single after every one of your breakups and so finally, though you never go on blind dates on principle, you give in and call the guy?  And he sounds really nice on the phone, so you say, Sure, Saturday night is fine.  And the date starts really well:  he brings you peonies, which are your favorite flowers, suggests this really lovely rooftop bar to watch the sunset, orders two Gin and Tonics without having to ask, and you get settled in thinking, Hey, this could work.

Then things go downhill. Fast.

His favorite movie is Titanic.  He would never visit Morocco because he’s heard it’s dirty.  If Sarah Palin’s only two constituencies are the Religious Right and Fans of Comedy, you are both constituents though you belong to the latter group and he, you are beginning to strongly suspect, the former. And just when you are thinking that the evening has been a total wash and you would have had much more fun hanging out on the couch in your Slanket with a glass of Merlot and the first season of Glee and are thinking of the tongue-lashing your girlfriend is going to get the next morning for setting you up with this loser, the most amazing man walks into the bar.  The. Most. Amazing. Man.  And Mr. Loser looks up and says, Oh, hey, there’s my brother.

And that’s how you meet your husband.

Ristorante Nanà

Corso Cavour, 202
Perugia
075 5733571

Closed Sunday

Okay, now translate that all into restaurants.  My dear friend, Letizia, whose food opinion I respect and trust, had been talking up Nanà for ages.  Ages, I say.  So many ages that I kept putting off actually going to Nanà because I wanted to save it for a special occasion, which just happened to be a friend’s 40 birthday.  And it started off wonderfully:  the restaurant is a charming retrofitted salone signorile (an airy surprise after you pass through the narrow corridor entrance), the proprietors (a family of father, mother, daughter, son-in-law) were warm and we started the meal with a long chit-chat about local wineries, the menu was limited but promising and the wine list had some of my favorite Umbrian cantine.  Even the appetizers boded well; I had a light leek and truffle flan with cheese sauce which was perfect in every leeky/truffley/cheesey way.

Then things went downhill.  Fast.

Our pasta dishes were mediocre.  And I really wanted them to be good, because it was like being on a blind date with your friend’s friend and you want to like him so you can bring back a positive report to your friend, who you know is waiting by the phone for a play-by-play when you get home.  But it just wasn’t happening.  They were bland, slightly overcooked, and mean portions (and I say this from an Italian portion point of view, not an I-must-have-enough-to-take-home-in-a-doggie-bag-so-I-can-microwave-it-at-the-office-tomorrow-for-lunch portion point of view.)  Our plates had five potato/truffle ravioli on them.  We were tempted to check the floor to see if some had slid off on the trip from the kitchen.

Our meat dish (venison) was inedible.  I am cringing to say it, because one of my cardinal review rules is: if you don’t have something nice to say, then don’t review the restaurant, but it’s the truth.  We left it virtually untouched (and they, very graciously, took it off the bill later).  And the salt they forgot to put in the pasta water was on the artichokes.  Wow, pass the water.

They rallied at dessert (I had their nice little traditional bread pudding, which I haven’t had in years and it was a little dry but still nice and cinnamon-y.  My friend had their warm chocolate pudding cake, and was very satisfied.  So was I, since I ate half of it.)

Despite having had a lukewarm first date with Nanà I am still writing it up.  Why?  Well, for one I feel like this restaurant deserves the benefit of the doubt.  The proprietors are so welcoming, passionate, and obviously put a lot of care into their service–my gut feeling is that we just stopped in on an off night, which is a shame but happens.  I am going to give them a shot at a second date, and we’ll see what happens.  For better or for worse, you will all know about it.  For two, as I was writing this article I skyped my friend, who, as it turns out, has much more charitable memories of our meal than I do.  So perhaps I’m just being too demanding.  And, for three, the night we went to Nanà is the night I discovered my New Favorite Place in Perugia, aka L’Officina.

L’Officina

Borgo XX Giugno, 56
Perugia
075 5721699

As we were walking down the street towards Nanà, we passed a small dimly lit doorway a couple of blocks away and I said, Is that a store? And my friend said, No, it’s a great little restaurant.  I’ve eaten there a couple of times.  Fabulous food.

So awhile later we went back to this funky space, part art gallery, part restaurant, part left wing social revolution headquarters (just kidding…but it does kind of have that vibe).  From outside, the small doorway seems to lead to some sort of used bookstore or second-hand furniture shop, but it’s the original architectural details from when the building was a workshop for building and calibrating scales—including the turn of the century wooden floor–which give it the ex-industrial-loft feel.  But following the stairs towards the back you find yourself in a larger room (crammed with tables, European-style.  Not the place to stage a break-up.  Just in case you are reading restaurant reviews looking for the perfect place to stage a break-up.) with artwork covering the walls (they host rotating shows of local artists) and the kitchen behind a glass partition.

The service was rather perfunctory (nothing bugs me more than when you ask your waiter about a dish, and they have to check with the kitchen because they don’t know what’s in it.  Folks, that sort of research should happen in the ten minutes you open for dinner, not when you’ve got people already seated.  And, while I’m bitching, no use having an encyclopedic wine list if half the choices aren’t available.  Ok, I’m done.), but the food was, simply put, amazing.  Now, let me warn you that this is definitely nouveau-Italian.  If you are looking for classic Umbrian dishes, this may not be the place for you.  But if you’ve had your fill of strangozzi al tartufo and are in the mood for a meal that pushes the envelope in a delightful way, you’ve hit the jackpot.  The descriptions of the dishes go on for a paragraph, the presentation is whimsical (my friend had ravioli in red sauce served in a Margarita glass), and the ingredients quirky and original.

I had carob tagliatelle tossed with arugula and almond pesto and a delicious creme brulée with Madagascar vanilla bean, both of which were memorable and left me feeling happily in love with this place.  But the real winner of the meal was the tasting menu, comprised of a seemingly endless procession of tapas-sized samples –appetizers, first and second course selections, and dessert–each paired with a different wine.  A wonderful way to try this restaurant’s innovative cooking without commiting yourself to any one menu choice, and at €25, the price was more than fair.

All told, I am very much looking forward to my second date with L’Officina (perhaps this winter, to check out their seasonal menu changes) and a long and happily committed relationship.  But I may just have a little fling on the side with Nanà.  You never know.

Expect your meal with wine to run between €50 and €75 for two at both of these restaurants.

Wineries and olive oil mills are open to the public, and you can walk or bike the vineyard and olive tree covered hills to see first hand the care and labor that goes into making Umbria’s wonderful wines and olive oils.

A special thanks to Marsha Bakerjian for letting me contribute to her informative blog!

I’m especially proud of this picnic spot, not so much because it’s extraordinarily beautiful (though charming it is) or particularly hard to find (though you’ll have to follow my directions carefully), but simply because I had to do some serious recon work to find a place that I liked enough to share.  After a long day of driving around more or less chasing wild geese and rejecting contenders with a growing sense of defeat, this tiny lake came out of left field and surprised me with its quiet grace.

But first, victuals.  This is a perfect excuse to take a stroll down the main corso of pretty Bevagna, where in the space of four or five blocks you can find all you’ll need for a meal al fresco.  Begin at Tagliavento on Corso Amendola…here you’ll find a tempting selection of handmade salame, prosciutto, dried sausage, and other traditional Umbrian charcuterie side by side with some local cheeses and the ubiquitous porchetta.  Umbrians have been coming here for their cold-cuts for three generations, so take your time and choose with care—or let Marco and Rosita suggest something special.

From there, cross over the piazza toward Corso Matteotti; along the Corso you can stop by the greengrocers at number 53, the grocery market at number 49, and the Polticchia bakery right around the corner at Via Fabio Alberti, 9.  And you can’t spit in Bevagna without hitting a wine shop, so stock up on some local Sagrantino as long as you’re there.  This is how small town shopping is done and—when not pressed for time—it’s a pleasure to finish up laden with an anachronistic array of bundles, bags, and packages from four or five different stores.

Now to reveal to you my secret spot:  From Bevagna, take the provincial highway SP 403 following the signs towards Capro and Cannara.  About two kilometers outside of Bevagna, you’ll come to an old brick bridge that runs parallel to the road (where there’s a new bridge now) which has been closed and made into a picnic spot (one of the rejects…too much traffic noise).  Where this bridge begins you’ll see a small road on the right with a sign indicating Il Convento dell’Annunziata (another reject…pretty view but no place to sit.  I’m telling you, I cased the Bevagna countryside).  Turn here, but rather than continuing uphill towards the convent, take the road which continues straight along the plain marked by an arrow reading Lago di Aiso.  After about a kilometer, you’ll come to the small fenced lake ringed by poplars and picnic tables.  For the prettiest view, walk around to the table at the far side, where you’ll have a view of Assisi.

The still lake perfectly mirrors the surrounding trees and fields

This spring-fed lake is small but deep—around 15 meters—and flows into the nearby Topino river.  Though unassuming, it has a wonderful legend surrounding its origins which has been traced back to the 1600s.  It is said that at this very spot there once stood a large farmhouse owned by a wealthy but impious and miserly farmer named Chiarò.  One year he decided to thresh his fields on the feast day of Saint Anne (the 26^th of July), despite it being traditionally a day of rest.  His wife, known for her piety and charity, begged him not to work on this holy day to no avail.  As soon as he had finished threshing the last stalk of wheat, the house and surrounding fields suddenly sank into the ground and the deep pit immediately filled with water, drowning the farmer and his fieldhands.

The sound of rushing water from the run off into the nearby Topino river is perfect background music for a picnic

His wife—warned by an angel of what would soon be the fate of her husband–was able to escape with their baby son, but a small stream of water followed her and drowned the farmer’s offspring as well.  The nearby natural spring called the Asillo marks the spot where the infant drowned. Every year, on the night of Saint Anne, those who visit the lake can see the house of Chiarò under the water at the bottom of the lake and hear his cries as he urges on his threshing horses.

Spooky.

Get the VIP table with the view of Assisi on the far hill

Buon appetito!

In two weeks of guest posts, Italy travellers and residents took readers on stops to some of the most beautiful spots in the Bel Paese.  I talked about what it is I love so much about the magical town of Assisi here.

nume Clitumno!  Sento in cuor l’antica

patria e aleggiarmi su l’accesa fronte

gl’ital iddil.

Hail, green Umbria, and you, Clitumno, genious of the pure spring!

I feel in my heart the ancient fatherland, and the Italic gods

alighting on my fevered brow.

–Giosuè Carducci

So often human history is intrinsically intertwined with water—floods and drought, navigation and exploration, the rise and fall of nations—and a visit to the crystal-clear springs which form the source of the Clitunno river is a reminder of this symbiosis.

Le Fonti del Clitunno's landscape of shallow lagoons and weeping willow planted islands

This idyllic spot  has been the inspiration for writers, poets, artists, priests, and emperors for over 2,000 years.  In Roman times the spring was considered sacred for the river god Clitumnus, and white oxen were raised here to serve as sacrifices (legend had it that bathing the animals in the river rendered their color immaculate).

Try to visit on a weekday late afternoon, when traffic is at a minimum on the nearby Via Fliminia and the bus tours have left

A severe earthquake in the year 444 a.D. changed the river’s depth, leaving it no longer navigable, and muddied the area around the springs.  In the middle of the 19^th century, a careful landscaping project restored the springs and surrounding park to their former splendor.

Writers from Virgil to Pliny, from Carducci to Byron have paid homage to these springs

Continue a kilometer down the Via Flaminia to visit the Tempietto del Clitunno, a truly fascinating piece of architeture which straddles the centuries of the fall of the Roman empire and the rise of Christianity.

The colored marble columns and pediment on the elegant facade are just some of the pieces pilfered from nearby abandoned Roman buildings

Dating somewhere between the 6^th and 8^th centuries a.D., this early Christian church was built with architectural elements plucked from abandoned Roman villas and pagan chapels which once stood in the sacred area along the Clitunno river.  Here in this one tiny building you can see one of the last architectural works of antiquity, now adopted to make a Christian church rather than pagan temple.  Soon Christian architecture would take over, and this world would be lost forever.

The tiny indoor chapel is decorated with 8th century Byzantine frescoes

Lately a small cocktail culture has begun to take hold in Umbria, for a number of reasons.  First, the concept of the aperitivo has become increasingly popular over the past couple of years, probably because the happy hour-esque pairing of drink with food around dinner time is something that the Umbrians can cotton on to without much trouble.  Also, with the economy being what it is, it can be cheaper to nurse a drink for an evening of after-dinner conversation than order a meal (However, as part of my hard hitting journalism, I actually found myself consuming an €8 cocktail the other night.  €8.  Like, the same amount I pay for a pizza margherita and a small beer in my real life.). And, of course, Umbrians–like the rest of the world–like to feel like they are doing the same things hip people in Manhattan are doing, so mixed drinks are hot right now.  Though the hip people I know in Manhattan seem to spend an inordinate amount of time ordering-in Vietnamese sandwiches and watching The Wire on their TiVo.

The bottom line is that you are probably not going to get an extraordinary drink in Umbria.  This is not the land of the mixologist, but of the porkologist.  If you want a memorable salame, you’ve come to the right place.  If you want a memorable Manhattan, you should probably go there.  This is, however, a land of wonderful views, people watching, and historic cafes…so I’ve given more weight in my choices to the esthetics than to the quality of the alcohol.  If you’re choosy about your cocktails, you can always just order a glass of wine.  Umbrians do know good wine.

A Drink with a View

Punto di Vista–Viale Indipendenza, 2 Perugia

The bad news is that Perugia has no rooftop bars.  The good news is that this hilltop town doesn’t need them.  Perch yourself on one of the stools along the parapet which forms the long wall of this outdoor bar, and sip a cocktail while enjoying one of the most spectacular views around.  From here you can see almost the entire length of the Umbrian valley, and prettily lit Assisi on the far hill.

Why, yes, I did manage to snap this picture on the night of the full moon. Why, yes, I do rock.

Il Trombone–Via Fontanello 1, Spello

The view from this outdoor lounge is so enchanting that you will be tempted to return here for a meal.  Don’t do it.  The restaurant is—how can I put this?—a crime against Italian cooking.  But the adjoining bar is a lovely tree shaded patio with wicker seating tucked into niches and an incredibly soothing view over the green olive-grove covered hills surrounding Spello.  I repeat:  just drink here.

The view takes the edge off just as much as your drink.

A Drink with a Different View

Tric Trac–Piazza Duomo, 10 Spoleto

If you are green hill panorama-ed out but would still like some eye candy to accompany your gin and tonic, head to one of the outdoor tables at this elegant bar overlooking Spoleto’s breathtaking duomo.  The piazza–closed to traffic–is unusually quiet for an Italian square, so you can sip in peace while gazing at the softly lit facade of one of the most magnificent churches in Umbria.

The bell tower is currently under scaffolding, but that doesn't distract from this breathtaking facade.

Nun–Via Eremo delle Carceri, 1A Assisi

This rather unfortunately named brand-new-never-been-opened-still-in-box luxury hotel and spa seems to have gotten everything right…the elegant renovation of the historic ex-convent it now calls home, the breathtaking spa in the excavated Roman ruins under the hotel, and the chic internal courtyard bar open to both guests and the public.  This glass, chrome, and dramatically lit space offers a unique view in Assisi…looking up, rather than down, you see the Rocchicciola, or secondary fortress which dominates the skyline.

People watching

Hotel Bontadosi–Piazza del Comune, 19 Montefalco

If all humans are actors in this theater of life, the main stages in Italy are doubtless the town piazzas.  Settle yourself down in one of this elegant hotel’s inviting outdoor couches, order a drink from the formal yet approachable staff, and watch the show.

Get front row seats to the show in Montefalco's charming piazza

Bar 1.2–Piazza Garibaldi, Todi

Right under the portico of the elegant Palazzo del Comune, this new bar is both a wonderful place for people watching and, if you’re lucky, listening to live music.  The atmosphere is young and casual, the shows are a mix of acoustic, jazz, and alternative, and the piazza is hopping.  A winner.

Winter haven

H2nO–Via Baldeschi, 12/a Perugia

If the sun isn’t cooperating but you are still hankering for a Cuba Libre, search out this quirkily hip bar right in the university district, with its young clientele and a fun vibe.  The main floor is built around some restored Roman arches in brick and stone, which makes it an interesting space when the weather outside is frightful.

Il Vincaffè–Via Filippeschi 39 Orvieto

This wine bar is upscale yet friendly, like a neighborhood place in Soho.  Great wines and spirits, jovial staff, and some foodie munchies.  A perfect place to pop in for an hour on a chilly fall evening to imbibe and rub elbows with the locals.

This great shot by Dean Thorsen captures the vibe of the place. Good times.

A special thanks to Alessandra from Discovering Umbria for her Todi and Orvieto help and suggestions!

If you want to see how staying in an agriturismo in Italy can be a great way to experience this country in a mindful way, read here.

They have been telling me all this time that their traditional bread is an acquired taste.  That, my friends, in a gross falsehood.  I have been here close to 20 years, and it is still one of the biggest disappointments of my overseas move to Italy, second perhaps only to the discovery that one does not transform into a sultry mediterranean seductress simply through a process of cellular osmosis by living in a country inhabited by sultry mediterranean seductresses.  Apparently, you are either born Sophia Loren or you are not.

Traditionally, Umbrian bread (also known as pane comune) is made with three ingredients:  flour, yeast, and water.  And, not surprisingly, once baked it tasted like flour, mixed with a little yeast and water.  To someone who has grown up with the neighborhood Italian bakery hawking freshly baked “Italian bread”– that wonderfully aromatic thick baguette-type loaf with a moist, chewy, flavorful crumb and a crisp, flaky, glazed crust—this saltless low loaf with its dense, dry crumb and hard, tough crust is blasphemy.

Artisan baker wood fired oven baked bread has a moister crumb and a slightly sourdough flavor: edible.

Why do Umbrians still remain faithful to their traditional bread, especially now that fabulous Tuscan bread (closer to what the world associates with “Italian bread”) and Neapolitan bread (with a slightly chewier crumb and dark crust) is easily found?  One explanation is historical:  in the mid-1500s,  Pope Paul III imposed a hefty tax on salt to increase revenue from his Papal States (which included present-day Umbria).  Rather than pay up, the inhabitants simply began making their bread without salt, and the tradition still continues.  That said, Umbrians routinely used leeches to bleed their ailing brethren, but over the centuries came to the conclusion that perhaps that wasn’t the best idea.  So history and tradition can’t be the sole reason.

Bread baked by a bakery in a conventional oven: given a choice between this and death, edible.

What it really comes down to is this:  bland Umbrian bread is the perfect foil for traditional Umbrian cooking.  In fact, when eaten how nature—and centuries of culinary tradition– intended, this otherwise sad excuse for a loaf becomes, well, delicious.  Before I tell you the secret of its transformation, let me be clear that there is Umbrian bread and then there is Umbrian bread.  Traditional Umbrian bread made by an artisan baker in a wood fired oven is, given certain preconditions, edible.  Traditional Umbrian bread made by a bakery in a regular oven is, given the choice between that and death, edible.  Traditional Umbrian bread of the variety made by big commercial bakeries and sold at the supermarket shrinkwrapped in plastic is inedible.  Period.

Choose death.

La Scarpetta

La scarpetta is, simply put, when you use a piece of bread to wipe the remaining sauce off your plate and pop it in your mouth.  It is one of those behaviors that is both considered impolite yet universally tolerated, as everyone recognizes it as one of the pure joys of human existence.  Sort of like putting your feet up on the coffee table after Thanksgiving dinner.  Umbrian bread is perfect for la scarpetta.  As it has virtually no flavor of its own, the bread lets the strong flavors of traditional Umbrian sauces, many made with game, shine through.  Rather than a foodstuff, consider it a mode of sauce transportion.  An edible fork, if you will.

Il Panino

Umbrian cured meats—primarily prosciutto, but also salame, capocollo, salsiccie secche, guanciale, and coppa—are intensely flavorful and aromatic, and also tend to be heavily salted.  The traditional recipe of 1-1-1 (one finger width bread slice to one finger width coldcuts to one finger width bread slice) would be overwhelming if a more savory type of bread were used.  Again, with a good quality wood-oven baked loaf, a simple bread and Norcia prosciutto sandwich with a swig of farmer’s red to wash it down is one of life’s gastronomic epiphanies.

La Bruschetta

Okay, it’s broo-SKET-ta, folks.  I don’t want to hear any of that broo-SCHE -ta going on.  If I needed only one single reason to defend the continued existence of  Umbrian bread, this would be it.  With its dense crumb, Umbrian bread takes well to being sliced and toasted over wood coals (the best way to make bruschetta) without breaking apart and soaks up just the right amount of olive oil to strike the delicate balance between dry and dripping-down-your-forearm.    The bread’s lack of flavor means you don’t miss one hint of fruity or grassy or spicy or fresh or mellowed extra-virgin olive oil, and you can pick things up with more or less salt sprinkled on top and, though the purist jury is out, a clove of garlic rubbed over the top.  The role that traditional Umbrian bread plays in constructing the perfect slice of bruschetta is enough to redeem it, in my book.

It grows on you.

Hmm…now that I think about it, I have acquired a bit of a taste for this region’s bread.  Okay, okay.  I guess the Umbrians haven’t lied after all.

Right now is the perfect window in time to visit Bevagna, I town I already know and love, and this is why:  remember that girl in high school who was nice and everything but nobody really paid much attention to her Freshman and Sophomore years, but suddenly and inexplicably Junior year all the cute guys suddenly seemed to discover her and she completely flowered under the attention but was still very approachable and just wandered around bewildered by her sudden luck but by Senior year had dumped her friends and fallen in with the popular crowd and become one of those stuck up bitches who always have the right jeans and spend all their time in the bathroom combing their hair and talking smack?  Well, Bevagna is in her Junior year.

I remember ten years ago I had to beg people to visit Bevagna.  “It’s lovely, it has a Roman mosaic in this lady’s garage, it has the prettiest piazza around, it’s flat (a big selling point in a region where the vast majority of towns are built on a 60 degree slope),” I would say.  Now I have guests who pop out of their car upon arrival and announce that they want to visit Assisi, Perugia, and Bevagna.  Which can mean only one thing: Rick Steves.  But, hey, if it took the biggest jock in school to get the rest of the class to sit up and pay attention, I certainly can’t begrudge him.  Now the town has dusted herself off, prettied herself up, organized herself a bit better, and welcomes her new admirers with a friendly, if slightly baffled, smile.  She’s known all along what a gem of a town she is.

If you can, begin your visit by entering the city through the southern city gate, over a small bridge spanning the Clitunno River…to the left you can still see the public fountain where women once came to do their wash.

The bridge over the rushing Clitunno River at the southern gate is a perfect starting point.

Once you have crossed the river, stop for a morning cappuccino at one of the outdoor tables in this sleepy piazza (One reason you know Bevagna hasn’t yet sold its soul to the popular crowd:  this is a town that still completely shuts down at 1 pm.  You need to get there first thing in the morning or you’ll find the place deserted and the all shutters closed half an hour after you start poking around.  I was there at 1 pm and it was as if the wizard behind the curtain suddenly threw a big switch at exactly 1:10 and the town shut off.) and watch the locals come and go.

From there, walk one block to Piazza Silvestri, Bevagna’s pride and joy.  And rightly so—this delightful little piazza is home to two of Umbria’s loveliest Romanesque churches: the small, serious, hewn stone San Silvestro (take a peek at the crypt under the raised presbytery, typical of 12^th century churches) and the larger, lighter, soaring San Michele Archangelo.

The interior of the church of San Silvestro uses columns with Egyptian-style papyrus leaves on their capitals--a bit of an historical mystery.

San Michele Archangelo--if you look closely at the stone work around the central door you can see clusters of grapes growing on vines. Bevagna is smack in the middle of historic wine country.

Begin your peramble down Corso Matteotti, where you can see Bevagna’s delightful Junior year mix of hipster sidewalk cafés, small historic workshops, artsy antique stores, and commercial establishments of the variety which serve real residents: butcher, baker, candlestick maker (or, more precisely, beauty salon)– glaringly missing from the more touristed hill towns in Umbria, tragically. (Another reason you know Bevagna hasn’t yet sold its soul to the popular crowd: they still have the completely charming and almost extinct Small Town Unofficial Municipal Council sitting in ancient wooden folding chairs along the Corso, holding forth loudly and passionately about sports, politics, and any passing female under the age of 82.)

Bevagna's Small Town Unofficial Municipal Council meetings are held on the Corso every day from dawn to dusk, excluding meal times. And the seating is assigned.

About halfway up the Corso, stop in at the Museo di Bevagna to get two tickets: one will get you into the museum itself, the Roman mosaic, and the Francesco Torti Theater.  A guide from the museum escorts you to the second two, so you can first take a quick look at the museum.  The staircase is lined with remnants of stone tablets and random pieces of sculpture mortared right into the stucco…a fetching show of creativity which apparently exhausted the artistic vein of the museum architects, as what follows is a pretty anonymous series of square white rooms with not much to engage a visitor artistically.

It's not a good sign when the most interesting thing in the museum is the stairwell. That said, the archaeological collection is currently closed to the public, so maybe there's still hope.

When you come back downstairs, your guide will walk you the two blocks to the marine-themed mosaic (now in a neat well-lit room with a raised walkway and explanatory tablets.  When I first visited years ago, it was the floor of someone’s garage with a big iron padlock on the door, the key to which the nice lady across the street would toss into your hand from her second floor window, with the admonition to remember to turn off the light when you were done and leave the key in the door…she’d come down later and get it.  Ah, that was Bevagna her Freshman year.)  Afterwards, follow your guide for a peek into the pretty little 19^th century Torti Theater, with its red velvet seats, gilded boxes, and richly decorated ceiling.

Bevagna's surprise gilded lily of a theater.

Whew, lunchtime.  Now’s when you really realize Bevagna is edging into her Senior year, as the town is chock-full of great places to eat.  For a casual, hip atmosphere try La Bottega di Assù on Corso Matteotti, which is part bistrot/part bookstore/part art boutique all crammed into a space the size of my bedroom.  For something more upscale, but worth every penny, dine at one of Umbria’s hottest restaurants right now: Redibis.  Offering nouveau-Umbrian cuisine in a section of Bevagna’s restored Roman amphitheater, this unforgettable restaurant is on every foodie’s A-list. Otherwise, for traditional Umbrian cuisine head to Piazza Garibaldi, lined on both sides with the outdoor tables of the trattorias which have popped up like mushrooms over the past few years.

Spend a little time after lunch wandering the backstreets of Bevagna, making sure not to miss the curving Vicolo del Amphiteatro, tree-lined Piazza Garibaldi with its medieval city gate (Porta Cannara) and bricked-in facade of a Roman temple, and quiet cloister of the Dominican convent (now converted into a hotel).  At 3:00 (or 2:30. or 3:30.  It changes month by month.) head back to the Museo di Bevagna for your second ticket, the one which will get you entrance into a number of historically accurate workshops where artisans demonstrate their crafts using methods and tools from the middle ages.  I prefer by far to see these workshops during Bevagna’s wonderful medieval festival–Il Mercato delle Gaite–in June, but if you can’t make it then this is a good substitute.  To hear more about these amazing workshops, see here.

Once you’ve seen the mestieri, your visit is done.  Stay for just a few more minutes to have a relaxing glass of wine (you are in the heart of Sagrantino country) at La Bottega di Piazza Onofri on Corso Matteotti, and toast to Bevagna.  You had the amazing luck to meet her during her magical Junior year moment—here’s to hoping it stretches out for years and she remains forever lovely and warm, just as she is now.

A pretty view over Bevagna from the Santuario della Madonna delle Grazie outside of town.

Come read how Umbria can satisfy all five (or six!) senses here and admire Letizia Mattiacci’s lovely photos!