ghost town

Milan has quickly become a ghost town. It's Easter weekend and families have left the city to congregate in other places. All that Milan has left are the tourists, Stefano & I, and the giant eggs that have been strewn high above the streets. There's a smidge of joy that comes from living in a city that strings easter egg garland from one building to another.

They went up a couple of weeks ago and are, dare I say, cute. I also appreciate the contrast between the high-minded design coming out of the galleries and the very simple egg shapes hanging above them. Sometimes all you need is an oval to make a lot of people smile.



Those of us left to celebrate in Milan have taken comfort in the presence of traditional Italian easter treats. Sure, there are large edible bunnies to be purchased. And mounds of marzipan fruit.



But there is also the Colomba, a tall bread/cake shaped like a dove. It is egg-y and sweet, and studded with candied orange. There is also a hint of almond in the crunchy top layer and in the almonds that congregate there. The white pellets (for lack of a more eating-friendly term) are crunchy little sugar tubes. You can find them on top of croissants and other baked goods as well.

The Colomba is not a healthy cake; not even remotely. But it is delicious and soft and certainly a holiday tradition -- we're going to stick with that as the reason why we've eaten almost an entire colomba in less than two days.



This colomba was a gift from our portanaio. In Italy, a portanaio is the person who takes care of your apartment building. He is both the keeper of the building and your neighbor and in both of these capacities our portanaio is excellent. Originally from Sri Lanka, he lives downstairs with his wife and daughter. I should add that their apartment has some of the best dinner smells wafting out of it in all of the building.

I think our portanaio gave us this colomba because when we were having a conversation out by the small lemon tree behind our building I told him that I really like cake. (It made sense at the time.)

So the next time we saw him, he and his wife handed us this colomba. And it is good. Very good. Good in a breakfast way... good in a lunch way... and well, you can guess how it fits in after dinner.



I fear this colomba won't last the night.