Belle R Gurney

Reflections from the diary of a hungry traveler

05.07.2015 ROME: This morning we woke late and went to hunt for some breakfast. Mattia really wanted me to try ‘bombolini’, the Italian equivalent of a custard doughnut. No opposition from me… I surrendered willingly to the steady step of a man who’s mind was stead-fast on pastry. Darting from alleyway to alleyway, we stopped at three bakeries before arriving at our place. A tiny, inconspicuous establishment that found itself nestled, as if by accident, between the garage doors of two apartments. There was barely room for us at the bar, I was bumper to bumper with weathered Italian men, finding respite in caffeine and gluten. We ordered two bombolini and two espresso’s. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long… there was an emptiness in me that was about blossom into the madness of hungry desire. Mattias and I were not polite in our devouring. Mama mia, that was something new. Sweet, fluffy pastry like air had been dunked in a sugary snow. At its core, a melting river of near-savoury custard lubricated the lining of our throats. We ordered two more for good measure and headed out hand in hand, ready to tackle Rome.