Italian Carbs Don't Count #ICDC

 My family – which is so amazing to say now – still travels. Kids didn’t stop the show like some of you heathenish trollops were hoping. At the time of writing, our daughter Islay is 10 months old. She is the new main character our life and has truly stolen my heart. *sniffles*. My wife says it’s weird having three people who all have main character syndrome. Idk gang, I feel like there are only two and I am not one of them crickets. Not to give too much info but we’ve got a really exciting year ahead. One of the biggest plights of being a couple united by travel is finding new destinations. We’ve managed to put a “Triple-first” on the calendar: first new continent, first new country, first super long-haul flight. We’re working on an IG page (www.instagram.com/theintls) if you want to follow our gallivanting.

Let’s talk about Italy.

Italy is the place you go to eat all the food you want because the carbs don’t count. You can literally pasti-antipasti-segundo pasti yourself into a food coma every night for a week and not put on any weight. How do I know? I tried it. I swear to you all we did was eat. There’s so much to eat. But, I think the Italians, and perhaps Europeans in general, have figured out how to make freshness the core, support local production, and incorporate movement into their daily routines. The result? Eat as much pasta as you can and go back home with the same body you came with. Will circle back to this later.

My family travelled to Italy this past summer for Andrew and Antonia Pindling’s wedding in Ravello, on the Amalfi Coast. I love mountainous, hilly cities. Always have. Ravello is a series of winding roads like curved terraces going down to the coast and the whole way down is beautiful. It’s a very charming city, quaint and embalmed in true Costa d’Amalfi tradition and mystique.

After an hour’s drive from Naples Airport, up one side of a mini-mountain and then down the other side toward the coast, we got to Hotel Graal and checked into a room with a sprawling view of the expansive coastline and cerulean, blue sea.

The ride up the mountain and the ride down couldn’t have been more of a contrast. Going up, you see densely packed houses and a sprawling city extending as far as the horizon but dotted with a volcano masquerading as a benign hill in the distance. Going down, everything is either lush green from the foliage which sometimes hides a small, fresh mozzarella operation, or it’s blue from the sea dotted with yachts and smaller boats. It’s a dose of dopamine. You feel lighter the closer you get to the water, like the decent down the mountain is the route away from the stress you threw out of the window at the top.

The wedding was really indescribable. The bride was gorgeous, the groom was smartly tailored. It really was like a fairytale, down to the Italian violinist who seemed to flit everywhere like a hummingbird.

A fairytale I say! Congrats again!

The events leading up to the wedding, the ceremony, the reception, the after-party and everything besides the humidity was amazing. You can check out some highlights on my Instagram.

I’m gonna level with you: I thought that the Amalfi Coast was one of those super Instagram popular destinations; colorful houses, lemons growing on the vine – that kind of cliché stuff. While that’s true, the romance of this town isn’t something you can photograph. It’s a town of feeling, and everything about it is charming. You have to walk everywhere, and there are some parts of the town that are pedestrianized so you don’t’ have a choice. It’s not really a city for lazy people, you’re going to get those steps in. The narrow cobblestone streets and hills lined with grapevines, lemon trees and tomato plants look more like a living postcard than real life scenery. It’s not a town where anyone is in a rush, it’s a town where time is more of a guideline than anything else. Il dolce far niente is in the air, the water and the Aperol.

Italy is a food lovers paradise. The flavors of the Amalfi Coast blend fresh produce, seasonal local vegetables, and simplicity for a food-purists delight. They do this consistently like it’s the law. Everything hinges on freshness; what hasn’t been caught is simply not available. What’s not in season wont’ make it to a plate. I don’t think we had a single meal where the pasta wasn’t handmade in-house. One of my favorite restaurants was Salvatore Ravello. Order their burrata, the catch of the day, a bottle of Benito Ferrara Greco di Tufo wine and enjoy the view from your table. That wine breaks like a snowflake on your palette but with an explosion of sunshine and summer Pome fruit misted with a light citrus dew for a gorgeous trip along it’s slow-to-end finish of sea-salt and apricot.

Along via Madonna del’Ospedale (that’s a street name fyi), Osteria Ravello is worth stopping into. If the fact that the restaurant itself is on a bit of an incline doesn’t get your attention, then the picture-perfect view of the lush green hillside will. They also serve their prosciutto on a small rack, dangling like they’ve been sent to the gallows but will be pardoned by a bit of fresh bread or melon. Grilled fish with vegetables and a side of roasted aubergine and zucchini did the trick for me.

Nothing is ostentatious here. There’s no one bringing your Florentine steak out in a gold box or any of that bullshit. They keep it simple: fresh ingredients, cooked to order. The piquancy of every ingredient is allowed to set the taste melody, and the harmony is a simple sprinkle of sea salt, black pepper and olive oil – complimentary, not over-powering.

We didn’t do much more in Ravello besides eat, walk around and rest outside of the wedding activities. Frankly, there’s not that much to do there. This has increasingly becoming one of the core tenets of luxury travel, the absence of activities. The less there is to do, the less noise, the less connectivity – the more attractive the destination becomes. Peace can’t be manufactured, and the cost of finding it is worth it. The world is so connected and moving so fast in real-time that moments spent not knowing what is going on are becoming more popular. Isolation finally has commercial value, and remoteness is as great multiplier along Aperol. Because wherever there is Aperol, people will go. Did I mention there is Aperol everywhere?

On the subject of luxury, we decided to book a private boat for the day and head off to Capri. We used a company called Exclusive Cruises Capri, and it was €1,850.00 for a 37ft boat, including the captain, some beers, and bottle of prosecco. We started the day with a slow cruise out toward some smaller islands and rock formations; we ended up just going straight to Capri instead of stopping at each spot in the morning, but Captain Andrea made it a point to show us a few picturesque areas and famous sights as we made our way. At this point, I’m just sitting back and enjoying the salt air, Islay is asleep in her Doona and my wife has a gleeful look of relaxation on her face. We both have cold beers and part of me wishes neither the captain nor the baby was there so we could, ya know? wink wink Something about that ocean air, ya know?

Capri is like Harbour Island to the 10^th power in terms of island luxury. There is no dock, so a small tender comes and take you to shore. Valeria at Exclusive Cruises made a restaurant reservation for us at Lo Smeraldo; a seaside seafood restaurant which is quite famous it seemed. Vilebrequin should really offer me a brand deal for the way I got this fit off tbh, but I digress. We had to get into this small boat. Now, this wouldn’t ordinarly be an issue but getting into this 14ft inflatable tender boat with a baby was one of those experiences you just can’t practice for. All I could think about when they passed the Doona over to me after I’d gotten in the tender was “if this man drops my child, I am going to knock him out as soon as I get Islay out of the water.” All went well though. I think the wife may have tried to take an early dive, but maybe I’m not remembering that right idk idk.  

I’m about to run on about this restaurant and the food. Here we go: Lo Smeraldo is a bit busy, with lots of tables along this verandah-wharf hybrid space on the waterfront. We could see our sport-yacht rocking in the waves and get a little sea-spray from the waves breaking on the rocks. I am skeptical about these kinds of restaurants because they always feel like “tourist traps” where the idea is to get out food in mass and turn around tables quickly for profit rather delivering than an inspiring culinary performance. My skepticism was thwarted.

I ordered, whole stuffed sardines as an appetizer. I love sardines otherwise I know they are an acquired taste. They were stuffed with some type of creamy cheese and were very savory. For my main, I had a whole branzino which must have only been caught a few hours ago and had it grilled, deboned and served with some cherry tomatoes and a peculiar but delicious tomato based sauce

A sprinkle of sea salt and a healthy drizzle of extra virgin olive oil made it perfect. There is something about the acidity of a fresh cherry tomato that really draws adds brightness to the flavor of a fish. I could hear my tastebuds applaud with every bite, I imagined they were cheering for an encore every time.

My wife really got the winning dish though; her octopus appetizer was zesty, and bright. But, after trying her entrée I haven’t been the same since. This Linguini alla Vongole (linguine with clams) was like nothing I have ever tasted. I’m not sure if they have a master pot of salted pasta water or what, but it was flavored and cooked perfectly. The clams were steamed in white wine, garlic and butter and then tossed by hand into a bit of the pasta water to double down on that flavor. I’ve been on a mission to hit that high again ever since, to no avail. A bottle of Capri Bianco tied all the courses together with a neat bow and delivered a well-rounded lunch experience.

One of the best things about Italy on the whole, is that it’s really had to find bad food. Besides Chinese food, I’d say Italian is the most widely exported cuisine type globally. What’s ironic is, outside of a handful of restaurants; Carbone, Cipriani and the various Eataly markets around the world, most of the Italian food outside of Italy is absolutely trash, and so expensive. Comparatively, like much of Europe (this is especially true in Lisbon, Portugal), you don’t have to drop a big stack to have a good meal. Particularly in the smaller cities, because they take great pride in using only the freshest ingredients from their own land. That’s why Italian Carbs Don’t Count. Also, you can do three courses for €25 in some spots. Just have to know where to look.

I’m not sure that Capri is known for its food scene as much as it is for shopping. The shopping was nothing short of opulent; enter Via Camarelle. It’s like the Champs-Elyssee x Bond Street with a sprinkle of 5^th Avenue, but on an island. Narrow, red stoned, wholly inconvenient for pushing a Doona (but we made it work) and everywhere exuded wealth. Not richness, but wealth; Chanel was two doors from Hermes which was diagonally across from Dior and had a view of Bottega Venetta. Capri has the most islandy Louis Vuitton store I’ve ever been in, nothing very formal – attire for yacht parties and private flights. The convertible taxis from the waterfront are a Capri hallmark like the red taxis are to Hong Kong. They are quite fun too actually, you feel like you’re in an 80’s movie.

While we were waiting for a taxi to Via Camarelle, there was a group of Korean tourists who saw Islay in her Doona minding her business and were so amazed at how beautiful she was. One of them even blessed us with the news that his wife was expecting their first child, and a girl at that.

After a day spent dining, shopping and sweating our asses off we lugged our purchases and got a taxi back down to Lo Smeraldo to take the rib back to the sport-yacht and head back to Ravello.

Bahamians by and large don’t go to other places to swim and jump in no type of water we can’t see the bottom of because – look at what we are used to. But it was hot, humid and after all the money we spent in Capri we needed to cool off. Captain Andrea took us to a somewhat popular swimming spot, and I happily hopped off the boat into what felt like the first sip of a cold beer. A soothing full body cool down. I can’t explain it, but the water is not as salty as Cat Island waters, but saltier than New Providence waters – but don’t trouble your brain with that. Islay slept through all of this by the way. This girl does not play about her rest. We should all be like Islay.

We fired off a rocket cork from the bottle of chilled Prosecco into the air, poured up for the sail back and made our way back to Ravello.

End Note

You can pack in a nice 4-day itinerary in Ravello, and I’d strongly suggest pairing it with a stay in Rome, Naples, or any other Italian city for a day or so on either side of your trip. I mean, you’re there so you might as well see all you can. Ravello, and I think the Amalfi Coast generally are great for couples or for group trips. I’m not sure as a solo traveler I’d have enjoyed it as much because of the slow pace given the proximity of other destinations with a similar vibe, but that’s just me. The humidity in the summer is wild. I am not exaggerating. You will be drenched with sweat in no time flat. Stay hydrated! We were told the best time to visit is in Spring so keep that in mind.

Pro Tip: If you’ve got a MasterCard Black, or an Amex Platinum Card it's best to book your transportation through your concierge. It’s really convenient and takes the headache out of waiting. Almost all of the concierge vehicles will be big Mercedes buses or something comfortable and spacious, whereas with the cabs you may end up a little squished in a smaller car. FYI: Most taxis take cards, but they just prefer cash.

Thanks for reading!