A Life Worth Eating

What brought me to beautiful Siena? It couldn’t have been the famous Palio horse race. I had missed that by about a week. It probably wasn’t the magnificent cathedral, though its Beetlejuice Gothic-style stripes were pretty interesting (if a bit imposing for a religious site). Maybe it was the unique shell-shaped Campo, arguably one of the most amazing piazzas in all of Italy? Well, actually no. In retrospect, I can say with some certainty that it must have been the panforte from Nannini.

Did I know about this place, the city’s most well-regarded pasticceria, before I arrived? Of course not. But I have a sixth sense, a knack for finding such places. (Well, more like an undyingly stubborn refusal to eat anything less than the very best a city has to offer, but you get the idea.) My first visit began innocently enough. I spotted the unusually packed bar and decided it would be a good place to take my morning cappuccino. It was. Nice crema. But when fate smiled upon me in the form a forty-foot case filled with various pastries and sweets, I smiled back.

I had not waken up particularly hungry that day, so I listlessly ordered only the first four things that caught me eye. The first, a wedge of panforte margherita, was apparently the shop’s specialty (and the city’s, though you can confidently walk past the other imposters claiming to have the best). A dense cake of sugar, almond, hazelnuts, flour, orange zest, honey, cinnamon, nutmeg, and vanilla, this was absolutely incredible. Just the right balance between the sweetness, nuttiness, and spice.

Then, coerced by the kind old woman working the counter to order more delicious sweets, I sampled each of three traditional Tuscan cookies: ricciarelli, cantucci, and cavallucci. The first was by far my favorite of the bunch. Though I know of their preparation, I certainly plan to make these at home soon, for the ingredient list is wonderfully short: sugar, both sweet and bitter almonds, egg whites, and vanilla. Whatever culinary alchemy is responsible for ricciarelli, the results are marvelous. An eggshell-thin crisp outside layer gives way to a slightly chewy, but by no means dense, interior so redolent of almond and vanilla that you will want to bottle and sell it. Or, at the very least, eat it. I contemplated buying approximately 40 more to eat right then and there a few to go, but I decided to taste the other two cookies first.

Cantucci is just the Tuscan take on biscotti, often taken with a glass of vin santo (”holy wine”) for dessert. This basic almond rendition was a bit dull in terms of flavor. Not bad, but not great either (though when enjoyed with the wine, one might not particularly care). The cavallucci was the only real let-down of the bunch. A roughly-shaped fat disk made of flour, sugar, candied citrus, walnuts, honey, anise seed, and, of all things, coriander. With all the tender chewiness of cardboard, a flavor not unlike dirt, and a density reminiscent of a paper weight, this was not exactly a winner. Alas, you can’t win ‘em all.

But in what I promise was a purely selfless act, merely wanting to be as thorough as possible for those who would one day be reading this article, I returned the very next morning. The first treat I sampled this time was a wedge of pan di Siena fichi e noci, a fig and walnut version of the same panforte I’d swooned over the day before. The was very tasty, if not as revelatory as the margherita. I think roasing the walnuts prior to incorporating them in with the rest of the ingredients might have removed the slight bitterness they have when raw, as well as providing a richer flavor to counteract the sweetness of the figs.

Needing my exercise for the day, I then walked the four or five feet to the adjacent case of sweets, which held two additional varities of panforte that I had yet to try. The first was the torta di marzipane. Essentially equal parts panforte margherita and almond paste, this was far too sweet. Only with a significantly thinner layer of marzipan would this have been good. But as the picture indicates, this was pretty much sugar overkill.

The other variety of panforte that I had yet to try was antico panpepato. Along with the margherita, this is most prevalent variety of panforte that you will find. It has many of the same ingredients, but with the addition of cocoa powder, caramelized sugar, and more spices (including, as the name suggests, black pepper), the results are quite different. Far from gently flavored, this is a treat that stands up and yells for your attention. It is also delicious. If I were allowed to choose just one thing from this shop, it would still have to be the margherita, with the panpepato being a very close second.

Switching gears a little bit, I decided to try a pastry. The decision was short and sweet, as the bignè allo zabajone looked delicious. This treat was a traditional pâte à choux, but far from your standard cream puff. Instead of chantilly or pastry cream, the inside was stuffed with a rich, eggy zabaglione made with Marsala wine. While the texture of the pastry left a bit to be desired (Paris, this is not), the filling was delicious.

I wish I could also recommend the Nannina gelateria, further up Via Banchi di Sopra, but it was disappointing. I had a cone of panforte margherita and ricciarelli gelato. The texture was a little gritty, probably from tiny bits of each of those treats. I quite liked them on their own, but neither seemed to translate very well into tasty gelato.

No pastry shop is perfect (even if some come close). I certainly can’t claim that everything I ordered at Nannini was excellent, or in some cases, even good. But if you stick to a few specialties — namely the panforte margherita, antico panpepato, and ricciarelli — you will eat very well. Let the other people watch the horse races. I’ll be at Nannini.