Last time I was in Napoli, I was working in footwear. I was trying my best to get a collection of shoes out of a factory that was ridiculously late in hitting our deadline, and failed to see why we were losing our minds over it. I couldn’t speak much Italian at all, let alone Napolitani, which seemed like another language all together. It was exciting, stressful, and not a little nerve racking – as we drove to the factory, my rep would point to all the kids hiding at the top of the dishevelled apartment roofs and whisper ‘camorra’. I felt like I was in the wild west.
This introduction didn’t put me off, however. I still love the south, and the shabby exteriors of the once grand buildings. In fact, they are still grand, just covered in graffiti. We had nothing but good vibes, and we came back bewitched by the city.
We were there under the guise of ‘research’. Our new project is built from our memories of holidays, but I wanted a refresher. I also wanted to eat some pizza fritta. This elusive food is going on our new menu, and I wanted to try the original. I tried this whole, which arrived like a puffa fish, I had the calzone variant, and then the posh version. All unique and not all as delicious as the other.
These Southern folk do like their fritta.
