Traveler’s Tales: Italian Passion in Rome and Florence

We all found passion in 2010 Italy.

While visiting our godson in Rome, we were treated to the “best gelateria” in the Eternal City.

Located just a couple blocks north of the Pantheon, Giolitti sold gelato, candy and other Italian treats.

Devin, who worked for the UN, waved to a bank of gelato flavors–more than 100–and advised us to select two or three for our cones.

I chose three flavors: stacking up raspberry, lemon and passion fruit sounded good to me.

It was.

Particularly the passion fruit.

A cool mixture of sweet and tart swirled together into yellow creaminess: the tangy delicious flavor on our tongue forced our eyes wide with delight.

Molte bene!

Ah, gelato!

We liked it so much, we returned to Giolitti and savored it all over again!

Two days later we were in Florence and needed to kill some time before a concert. “Let’s find passion fruit gelato!” my daughter said.

I practiced the words: “Hanno gelato frutta di passionata?” and we entered the first store.

A stone-faced young woman curled her lip. “I have no passion.”

Okay. We excused ourselves.

The next gelateria featured a florid young man with black curls, red lips and dancing eyes. “I,” he announced with a thump on his chest, “am the source of all passion.”

Oh. Well, we were looking for gelato–and so we scampered out the door.

At ice cream shop number three, a middle-aged woman slumped over the counter. “Alas, there is no passion in my life.”

Was passion fruit gelato really so rare? Is it only served at Giolitti?

A shake of the head at gelateria number four and with our time running out and our tongues wondering if we’d have have such a pleasure again, we entered the last store.

A wizened old man listened to my request without emotion and went right to the point. “I only have passion on a stick.”

We were traveling with two eighteen-year-old girls. I glanced at my husband. “Do you think he means a popsicle?”

He did.

It was cool, tart-sweet and delicious, though not as good as gelato.

“Which just goes to show,” my husband said, “it takes an old man to provide true passion.”

Maybe in Firenze . . .

Where else in the world?

We have never found it since, except, while visiting Coronado Island in 2012, we wandered into Bottega Italiana. “Go ahead,” my husband said. “See if they’ve got it.”

The woman behind the counter brightened. “What does he want?”

I laughed. “A dream. We ask everywhere and have never found it except in Rome. Hanno gelato frutta di passionate? Do you have passion fruit gelato?

“Of course.”

We ate it on a cone, two scoops of passion fruit alone.

Va bene.

Che sono molte delicioza!

What lengths would you go to for a taste you truly love?