What to pack for winter in Italy

While most people travel to Italy in the warmer months, savvy travelers are more likely to take advantage of the sales available during winter. I'm a big supporter of traveling to Italy in the off-season. The only issue with this is packing – bulky winter clothing takes up lots more room than sandals and T-shirts.

 
I am a carry-on-luggage-only kind of gal, so my travel attire must fit in my packing cubes and cabin size trolley. I have become somewhat of an expert on cabin-size packing and often help friends and family with tips on how and what to bring in their luggage when they travel. Today I’ll be sharing my advice for packing for winter trips to Italy.

You know me and my love for lists. When I travel, I work with a checklist that I keep in my luggage. The list helps me plan out outfits as well as keep track of items throughout the journey.

One master packing list that will work for every Italy traveler is utopia: there are too many variables to take into consideration. What region of Italy? If traveling in the Alps, whether skiing or not, you’ll need specific snow wear. If traveling to Sicily––even during winter––you may regret not having brought your bathing suit and sunscreen. Whether you'll be visiting Italy couchsurfing or ticking off all the country's 3-Michelin star restaurants will obviously affect what you'll be packing in the suitcase.

What this is, essentially, is a set of suggestions based on the few key pieces I've found useful on my trips, and that frequent Italy travelers should never come to the Bel Paese without.

The first thing to consider when packing for Italy is the winter season's climate.

Winter in Italy is mostly chilly and wet. So what you want to pack should first of all keep you warm and dry. Since cold-weather clothing is far bulkier, if you have the budget for it this may be the time to splurge on travel clothing in high-tech fabrics that keep you warm without volume, and that dry quickly. I say that because in addition to traveling light, I am also an advocate of doing laundry during travel, including hand-washing items and drying them in the apartment/hotel where I’m staying. This reduces space in your bag (I hate the fact of having a section of my luggage occupied by soiled garments as travel days progress); cuts down on weight and shortens that dreadful back-home-from-travel laundry routine. For this reason, I always pack a clothesline with pegs; and when I arrive at my destination, I make it a point to purchase liquid laundry detergent for washing shirts, or a block of Marseille soap for my unmentionables.


So with no further ado, let's get started on your Italy winter packing essentials list:

Warm, waterproof coat

A coat that's both warm and water-resistant is a staple of Italian winter travel. I worked 15 years in the film industry, shooting in all weather conditions, so I am partial to Gore-tex, but having a shell jacket that will shrug off the rain as you walk from monument to museum is equally effective. Something with a hood is helpful, too. That said I would avoid a big bulky down parka: learn instead to layer with thermals, long-sleeve shirts and sweaters and have that waterproof lightweight (yet warm) jacket be your water/wind breaker. Mostly, bring a coat you love and feel confident in. Patagonia, The North Face, Dubarry and Columbia are all reliable, durable brands.

Waterproof shoes

How annoying are wet socks? Imagine walking around the Roman Forum all day with wet feet? Don't let a little precipitation dampen your Italy travel plans, though. Unless you're traveling to Venice during high-tide season, I wouldn't go as far as packing rubber rain boots, but do consider investing in a reliable pair of shoes that will protect your feet from water when you're sightseeing on a wet day. I would avoid white sneakers, and rather pack only one pair of shoes that's both functional (comfortable for walking around in) and nice enough to wear to a restaurant. Properly Scotchgard-treated Blundstone ankle boots are what I wear when leading walking tours on rainy days. Feet stay warm and dry for hours. Caterpillar hiking boots are also very reliable, but chunkier. 

Jeans

Denim is bulky and takes forever to dry––two things that count against jeans when traveling in wet weather––but I always bring one pair of blue jeans because they’re also sturdy and fashionable. Stretchy legging-type jeans that can be tucked into boots are also a great idea. One thing I do recommend is wearing them on the plane (that way they won't take up too much room in your luggage) and bringing another pair of non-denim pants to wear while your jeans have a chance to dry out if they get soaked. These can be tech material cargo pants, a fun pair of dungarees, or Chinos. 

Wrinkle reisistant

I'm not a fan of the roll-up packing method because it leaves my clothes too wrinkled. Brooks Brothers, Land's End, Nordstrom's, Talbots and Foxcroft sell button-down shirts and blouses that don't need ironing and which work well with layering. 

Cardigans vs. bulky sweaters

I highly recommend bringing long sleeve tops and cardigans rather than thick sweaters, because these take up too much space and are not good for layering. Bringing 3-4 is sufficient for a week. I also recommend bringing one thinner fleece that can be worn on its own for warmer days and double as an additional layer under your coat on colder days. 

Thermals

High quality thermal underwear (long johns) base layer wear is a smart winter travel move. I pack 2-3 doubles and wash them on rotation. They dry super quickly, so you always have a warm, clean pair every day. 

Pyjamas

Pack one set of long-sleeved comfy pyjamas. If nightgowns are more your thing, consider flannel, not fleece, which tends to cause static with often centralized the heating.

Accessories

Umbrella – a small, lightweight but sturdy collapsible umbrella with a protective sleeve and a loop attached to the handle is the best purchase you can make for Italy winter travel.

Handbag – The bigger my bag, the more I tend to fill it. But the Longchamp Le Pliage lightweight hold-everything purse fits everything in its roomy interior and has long handles for comfortably wearing it over your shoulder. 

Scarf – I'm a scarf-lover. No matter the season, I tend to bring a pashmina-style shawl with me whenever I travel. It's perfect on planes now that every airline charges for blankets, and in the winter it doubles as a scarf to keep me warm. This is where I throw thrift to the wind and go for good quality cashmere, which is warmer and softer than anything else.

Hat – My nonna's mantra was, "If your head's warm, you'll never be cold." As soon as temperatures drop, my collection of beanies and berets gets put to good use. I prefer models that cover my ears. Again, choose non-itchy wool and avoid angora which is pretty but sheds, ending up caught in your eyelashes.

Gloves – While I encourage you to look up from your phone and take in the beauty of Italy through your eyes, phone-dependant travelers may want to invest in a pair of texting gloves that allow your fingers to still work on a touch screen.

Socks – Don't be cheap: pack a dozen pairs of warm, comfortable, snug-fitting merino wool socks. Avoid cotton (which makes your feet sweat)! 

Undergarments – I normally pack 7-8 panties and 1-2 bras per week. It's good to have extras!

Noise canceling headphones – Don't underestimate the power of a good pair of headphones for air travel. Beats Solo3 Wireless headphones are comfortable and lightweight, packing 40 hours of battery life, ideal for long-haul travel, but they do come with a detachable headphone jack so I also use them for in-flight entertainment.

Adapter, power bank & lightening cable – Travel power adapters are essential for your trip, be sure to purchase ones that work in Italy for Type F power sockets. I like to sleep with my phone on my bedside, so a long cable to charge my phone is essential at rentals and hotels that don't have conveniently-placed wall sockets. To never run out of battery juice while on the go, be sure to pack (and remember to charge up) a portable power bank.



Will you be traveling to Italy this winter? Want to join me on a tasting tour in Rome?
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Anti-blues comfort food

Yes, it's the first day of spring.

But the grey blanket shrouding the sky, and the scarf wrapped around my neck as I type this suggests otherwise. This weather plays tricks on my mood.

When – despite what the calendar says – I need something warm to comfort me, I can always rely on these anti-blues winter recipes.

There are dishes that perform miracles, triggering memories. We ritually feed on tried and tested recipes that work as a Linus blanket. Others simply heal. Chunky soups, velvety pureed creams, court bouillon-based fish stews, consommés...

I have my own set of comfort food classics. They warm and pacify, and help me ward off the melancholy that nightfall brings on.

I once nursed a broken heart on a strict diet of passatelli in brodo, a cheesy-eggy dough that's forced through a ricer and then simmered in chicken broth. It worked wonders.

Continue Reading ➔

The Onion Soup Epiphany

I ate my first onion soup in a French restaurant in Rome called L'Eau Vive, an unusual place run by nuns and missionaries, located in a stunning Renaissance Palazzo.

Image © Whitecap.ca

It happened during a middle school French class field trip, and for some strange reason, the seating arrangement favored me to land at the popular girls' table. They were not cheerleaders, nor sports stars, these were all diplomat family kids, the majority of which well traveled and versed in international cuisine, and with a much broader cultural knowledge than expected of the average American 16-year-old.

These young women were the ones who introduced me nonchalantly to soupe à l'oignon gratinée. And it was during that epiphanic meal – when my spoon first cracked through the bubbled cheese crust, plunging past the toasted bread, and into the supple onion velvet – that I understood this to be a major turning point in my gourmand learning.

Our French class teacher Madame Moraglia, whose idea it was to go visit a restaurant instead of another French cultural establishment, further fueled this cathartic moment by suggesting which vintage Bourgogne paired best with the delight in our plates, teaching us about the textured and creamy wine and how it mirrored the soup's mouthfeel. I remember distinctly seeing her nod at the smiling Congolese Carmelite server, prompting she pour each of us a drop, in order to savor the complete françoise dining experience. All part of education.

This opened my eyes, and allowed a glimpse into what the real pleasures of life ahead were going to be. I will always be thankful to Mme Moraglia, to Allison and the other girls at my table for contributing to my culinary enlightenment.

Every time I wish to replicate the joy of that unique coming-of-age episode, I make onion soup. This is the recipe I have perfected over the years, through trial and error. This dish is uniquely French, so for today, you'll forgive this little non-Italian digression as we will fly past the Alps, and land in baguette territory.

Ingredients for 4
500 g (1.1 lbs) yellow onions, thinly sliced
1/2 stick butter
2-3 tbsp all-purpose flour, sifted
2 tbsp dry sherry
A pinch of salt and freshly cracked black pepper
1 liter (1 quart) boiling hot beef stock (a vegetarian version of this soup can be made with broth made with carrots, leeks, celery, potatoes, pumpkin or squash, etc.)
1 glass of whole milk
8 slices of crusty French bread, toasted
250 g (2 cups) Emmenthal, Gruyère or Swiss cheese, shredded


Preheat oven, setting it on broiler to high.

Cooking brings out the onion's nutty, mellow, often sweet, quality through caramelization. So this will be the first step. Melt 2 tbps of butter in a large pan and gently sautée the onions until translucent and golden. Careful, though: high heat makes onions bitter, so when simmering, always use low heat.

Sift in the flour and stir with a wooden spoon to avoid clumps. Season with a pinch or two of salt and a turn of the pepper mill. Splash in the sherry and deglaze the pot.

Pour in the hot vegetable broth and a glass of whole milk, and cook on low heat for about 30-40 minutes. This gentle, slow cooking will make the onion structure fall apart, but not completely, so if you're uncomfortable with the texture of onions, you can throw the soup in the blender and give it a couple of spins. Keep the soup hot while you assemble the servings. If you see it is too liquid, crank up the heat and absorb a little bit of the broth.

Butter the bottom of individual ovenproof baking crocks or ramekins (my cocottes are earthenware and with 2-inch high rims) and divide the onion soup ladling it in each bowl almost to the brim. Gently float 1 or 2 slices of toasted bread on each, and then sprinkle the surface with enough shredded cheese to cover completely.

Arrange your filled bowls on a cookie sheet, and broil in the oven for 10 minutes (time depends greatly on oven power) or until the surface of is completely au gratin, that is when a golden, bubbly cheese crust forms.

Serve immediately along with goblets in which icy Bourgogne Chitry blanc has been poured. A valid alternative can also be a chilled bottle of Côtes du Rhône blanc.

Bon appétit!

Bagna càuda recipe

In the earliest part of my childhood I spent a lot of time with my Nonna Titta. I've spoken about her in many occasions on this blog. She was a pillar of my upbringing, and even though I was 9 when she passed away, she left me many memories and an impressive mark on my nature and individuality. I see a lot of her in myself today.

In particular, the memories I associate the most with Nonna are sensory. The taste of her gummy, black Allenbury candies stashed in a tin box at the bottom of her beauty case, the glint in her emerald green eyes while we played pretending to be ladies having tea, and mostly, the smells coming from the kitchen when she'd cook. Her pièce de résistance was bagna càuda, characteristic of her Piedmontese origins.

This appetizer/soup, whose name in dialect means "hot bath," is enjoyed by dipping raw, boiled or roasted vegetables in a manner similar to fondue in a heated blend of garlic, anchovy and olive oil. It is traditionally an autumn/winter recipe and must be eaten hot, as the name suggests.

Bagna Càuda can be served in individual dipping bowls, or placed in a larger terracotta pan, placed on a burner at the center of the table, for communal sharing. Pictured above is the clay pot in which Nonna cooked and served hers.

Whenever my mother or I make Bagna Càuda, this is what we we still use.

Here's how we continue Nonna's tradition:
500 g (2 1/2 cups) extra virgin olive oil
150 g (3/4 cup) salted anchovies
50 g (1/4 cup) butter
6 cloves of garlic, peeled

Assorted vegetables for dipping:
2 cardoons (if these are not available where you live, substitute with 3–4 ribs of white celery, cut in sticks)
2 yellow bell peppers, cut in sticks
1 cup cauliflower florets
2 topinambur (aka Jerusalem artichoke, sunroot, sunchoke, or earth apple), peeled and cut in chunks
5 radishes, peeled
2 carrots, cut in sticks
2 artichokes, cored, outer leaves removed and quartered lengthwise
3 spring onions

Scrape the anchovies with a paring knife, rid them of the bones and open them flat. Brush away excess salt with a kitchen towel, and do not rinse with water.

Thinly slice the garlic and trim away green parts, if any.

In an enameled terracotta pan (if you don't have one, a common nonstick saucepan will do), melt the butter over extremely mild heat, add the garlic and let it tan without browning.

Add the olive oil and the anchovies, gently simmering, stirring and breaking up the fillets with the back of a wooden spoon. Do this for 10 minutes, or until the sauce is creamy and evenly blended.

Serve on a fondue burner or on a cooling rack placed over tea light candles to keep the delicious bagna as càuda as possible while you gobble away, washing down with rivers of Barbera or Dolcetto.

Note: For those fearsome of such copious amounts of garlic, there's a trick: you halve the quantity of oil and compensate with a cup of whole milk, to be poured in at the same time. Identical garlic quantity, and same exact procedure: the milk tames the punch of the garlic.

It works, trust Nonna.

Happy Holidays from Rome