Our Personal Center of the Universe

Bar Bellini alive at 7:00 a.m. My final cappucino in Firenze the morning I left.

Bar Bellini. From the first day we arrived in Florence over one year ago, Lee and I have not missed a day at Bar Bellini in Mercato Centrale for our morning cappucini. You have to get passed the smell of raw meat. Sides of beef bigger than me hang from hooks on dollies waiting for delivery to the butchers of Florence. But, once you do, it is worth the effort.

By now, they know us at Bar Bellini. We walk up to the soft marble bar and with a nod from Anna, the proprietor, she confirms “Due cappucini?” For all we can tell, it is the only place we have been in Florence where they don’t speak a word of English. It is sort of refreshing and makes us work for our keep. “Si. Grazie,” we respond.

We have never, ever had anything but the most perfect cappuccino here. They use the best espresso and a divine whole milk for froth, specific to Italy. Because of this experience, I will never again have a “skinny” anything. They don’t do “skinny” in Italy. “Ciao. Arrivederci,” every day as we leave the bar.