Christmas with your relatives, Easter with whomever you wish,” say the Italians. For Florentines, in particular, it would be unthinkable to spend Natale anywhere but in the bosom of their family. And where better? As Florence is a city best appreciated in winter. Toward the end of October, the humidity dissipates, daylight saving time is over, and all those little underground restaurants and wine bars—the buchi, or “holes,” for which Florence is justly famous—are transformed from claustrophobic panic rooms into snug retreats from the chill and wet.
The city reaches its apotheosis at the holiday, when the main thoroughfares are strung with tiny colored lights, trees have sprung up in many piazzas, green and red garlands loop across the shops of the Ponte Vecchio, and the aroma of chestnuts roasting on street-corner braziers fills the air. Presepi, or “crèches,” mushroom in the crypts of many of the city’s churches, including the lovely 13th-century Basilica di Santa Croce. These can be quite elaborate, akin to the miniature worlds through which model trains journey to nowhere. Especially engaging are the presepi viventi, or “living crèches”—the Virgin Mary, Joseph, the wise men, and the infant Christ portrayed in motionless solemnity by neighborhood children. The stillness lasts until a child coughs, and the spell is broken.
Glamour and display are essential components of Christmas in Florence, and at around five o’clock, as the sun sets, streetlights shed a warm glow on the fancy designer boutiques on the Via de’ Tornabuoni. At the bar of Caffè Rivoire, on the Piazza della Signoria, where summer’s outdoor tables have long since been hauled off, the city’s stylish young people drink, or rather spoon, cups of dark, bittersweet hot chocolate. And at cafés such as Paszkowski, on the Piazza della Repubblica, young men in sleek Armani suits and gold wrist chains languorously sip black espressos and talk into their cellphones while elegant older women in tailored wool suits and competing perfumes chat at the small tables.
Soldiers in full regalia— bersaglieri with feathers in their hats—and sword-wielding members of the carabinieri stride about the piazza as though on official business. In reality they are on their break, and when young foreign girls ask to be photographed with them, they pretend annoyance but, in the end, comply with the hauteur befitting their status. Some are accompanied by their perfectly groomed, equally haughty mounts. But for me the beast that best embodies Florence at Christmas is no thoroughbred. Rather, it is the scrappy pony that, decked out in a sort of Santa Claus outfit complete with bells, faded tinsel, and tattered red and white fake fur, sometimes holds court outside the Rinascente department store. It is led by an ill-tempered fellow who extorts funds from parents who want snapshots of their beautifully turned-out children alongside or on top of the hapless creature, which, despite everything, maintains a threadbare dignity.
Holiday celebrations in Italy run almost a full month, from December 8, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, to Epiphany, on January 6. And this is the season when Florence shows off its true culinary glories, its winter dishes—delicious vegetable soups thickened with unsalted bread, beans flavored with rosemary and simmered in a glass flask, fresh pappardelle sauced with wild boar—foods that in summer seem as inconceivable as wool coats. On Christmas Eve, two days of nonstop eating kick off with a meatless dinner that includes three or four primi piatti (perhaps seafood risotto, ravioli stuffed with lobster, and spaghetti with clams and mussels), followed by a fish—branzino or sea bass baked in salt. The menu for lunch on Christmas Day itself is more circumscribed, beginning with tortelli in brodo and culminating in the presentation of a gorgeous stuffed and roasted goose or capon.
Early in December, the city’s bakeries begin displaying irresistible dolci di Natale. Florence itself has no tradition of Christmas sweets, so what you see in the neighborhood pasticceria are in fact imports from other parts of Italy: soft marzipan ricciarelli and panforte (some so dense that not long ago one was used, it is said, as a murder weapon) from Siena, cantucci from Prato. There are also the ubiquitous raisin-flecked panettone, from Milan, and bell-shaped pan doro, from Verona, which despite their origins in the north are eaten all over Italy and, in the case of panettone, all over the world—an irony not lost on the Italians, many of whom, when pressed, will admit they don’t much like it. Nonetheless, at Christmas everyone consumes massive quantities of the stuff—sliced and toasted, slathered with winter berries and fresh whipped cream, or, most often, simply torn off in bite-size hunks.
Christmas is a much more formal affair in Florence than it is in America—think Dolce & Gabbana rather than flannel bathrobes, Perrier-Jouët not eggnog, marrons glacés instead of sugar cookies. What you eat, as much as what you give, signals prestige, sophistication, and, not least, money. One hears the word importante used in shops to describe certain items. Sheets are importante if they are Pratesi, an egg timer is importante if it is an Alessi, fish is importante if it is a whole sea bass baked in salt.
It’s a word that testifies to the good taste of Florence’s citizens as well as to their respect for quality craftsmanship. After all, fine leather and paper goods have been a staple of the local economy for centuries. Yet for all their priceless antiques, luxurious wall hangings, and tastefully spare coffee tables, Florentine homes are notoriously lacking in comfort, which may in part explain the popularity of the cozy Irish and English pubs that have cropped up in the city of late. In this Christmas season, marked by ritual and tradition, Sunday bests and neckties, they offer Florentines the chance to take a break from shopping and relax for an hour or so.
Giving gifts on Christmas Day is actually something of a novelty in this old, established city—a concession to American films that have stirred the moviegoing Italian imagination with images of colorful boxes stacked under trees and a jovial, white-bearded Santa Claus. According to Italian custom, presents were not handed out until Epiphany, when, in a fusion of Christmas and Carnevale, La Befana, the beneficent Yuletide witch—a sort of thin, female Santa—flew in and distributed toys and candy to the good children and coal to the bad. These days, all the children get coal—or La Befana’s trademark carbone, black sugary lumps that resemble coal but taste like cotton candy.
Come December 26, there is a mass exodus from the city, as younger people in particular flock to the various spas, ski resorts, European capitals, and country bed-and-breakfasts where they will pass the rest of the holiday—the stretch of days to New Year’s, Capodanno, when one eats a multicourse cenone, and then on through January 6, by which point even the children have started to weary of too many holidays.
Soon the trees will be taken down, the lights unstrung, the few panettones that remain consigned to half-price tables at the backs of shops. To happen upon them on one of those long, lovely summer evenings when you have to wear sunglasses to dinner is to be reminded, dimly, of the seasonal shifts upon which so much of Italian life depends: sunlight as something to seek out rather than flee; the witch who carries coal; and the pony who, stripped of his costume, is spending, one hopes, the warm months in seclusion, munching on hay and dreaming of Natali to come.
Staying There
A festive address for the holidays? Try the brand new five-star Villa La Vedetta (011-39-055-681631; from $565) in the hills off the Piazzale Michelangelo, with stunning vistas of the city. If you’d rather be in the middle of the action, the Ferragamo family’s oh so comfortable Continentale Contemporary Pleasing Hotel (011-39-055-27262; from $345) has just been renovated. Its rooftop lounge and bar puts the cradle of the Renaissance at your feet. Just a few yards away, on the banks of the Arno, their Lungarno Suites (011-39-055-27262; from $295) provides a furnished, staffed, and fully equipped (microwave, dishwasher, DVD/CD player, Internet/satellite TV) pied-à-terre. For views plus shopping, you can’t beat the simple but elegant Antica Torre di Via Tornabuoni 1 (011-39-055-2658161; from $270) , with rooms set in a 13th-century tower and designer boutiques right on the doorstep.
Recently, Florentine hospitality has expanded to include alternatives for visitors who want to feel more at home. The aristocratic Palazzo Magnani Feroni (011-39-055-2399544; from $245) features family antiques (and, at this season, a Christmas tree) in each of its 12 suites, where Florence’s finest craftsmen will visit you with samples of their work. Less grand, but absolutely exquisite (and just a short walk from the city center), is the Villa Antea (011-39-055-484106; from $365).
Eating There
Buca Lapi (Via del Trebbio 1r; 055-213768) has held court in the cellars of the Palazzo Antinori for 130 years. It is still the best of the buchi, exuding heady aromas and delicious tastes—from hearty ribollita and fresh pappardelle with wild boar sauce to crispy fried rabbit with artichoke and expertly grilled fiorentina steak. Florence is not a place you expect to find exceptional fish, but Fuor d’Acqua (Via Pisana 37r; 055-222299) serves excellent raw shellfish, gnocchi with plump shrimp, and fish delivered fresh every evening from their own fishing boat. At Frescobaldi Wine Bar (Via dei Magazzini 2-4r; 055-284724), you can sample some 75 namesake wines. The menu here features simple Tuscan specialties such as crostini topped with liver pâté and bruschette with tomato, basil, and Frescobaldi’s own superb Laudemio extra-virgin olive oil. Don’t miss the delicate semifreddi of Vin Santo with warm Gorgonzola sauce.
In the evening, the serene Piazza di Santa Croce, known for its outdoor gatherings since medieval times, has lately become the hottest area in Florence for new restaurants and wine bars. Boccadama (Piazza di Santa Croce 25-26r; 055-243640) offers Tuscan salumi and a brief dinner menu. Across the piazza, Finisterrae (Via de’ Pepi 3-5r; 055-2638675) cuts a wide Mediterranean swath—from mezes and tapas to moussaka and Neapolitan pizza. Trattoria Baldovino (Via di S. Giuseppe 22r; 055-241773) serves rich Tuscan soups and local specialties like braised pork shank with mint and cauliflower purée. Across the street, Enoteca Baldovino (Via di S. Giuseppe 18r; 055-2347220) offers wine tastings with salumi and cheeses on the terrace (weather permitting).
The holiday season is a swell time to visit old favorites like the extravagant Enoteca Pinchiorri (Via Ghibellina 87; 055-242777), the astonishing Cibrèo (Via Andrea del Verrocchio 8r; 055-2341100), the boisterous Il Latini (Via dei Palchetti 6r; 055-210916), or the colorful Trattoria Garga (Via del Moro 48r; 055-2398898).
When you need a break from shopping, try Caffè Rivoire (Piazza della Signoria 5r) for rich hot chocolate or coffee and a view of the Palazzo Vecchio. Or the historic—and very hip—Caffè Giacosa (Via de’ Tornabuoni 10r) for their traditional Giacosa pastry and homemade panettone. The Colle Bereto wine bar (Piazza degli Strozzi 5r) has a light lunch menu of creative salads and pastas. Later in the day, Procacci (Via de’ Tornabuoni 64r) is a favorite stop for a glass of Prosecco with their famous truffled panini. Olio & Convivium, in the Palazzo Capponi (Via Santo Spirito 4), sells not only 250 Tuscan wines but 50 different kinds of extra-virgin olive oil.
Being There
Fortunately, Florence’s shops are designed for browsing. At Pineider, in the Piazza della Signoria, you can order engraved stationery with typefaces once favored by Lord Byron. The Giannini family has been binding books and making paper since 1856 at Giulio Giannini e Figlio (Piazza de’ Pitti 36-37r). Handbags in crocodile, ostrich, python, and lizard are the signature at Bianchi e Nardi (Via Parione 16r). Argentiere Pagliai (Borgo S. Iacopo 41r), silversmiths for three generations, will accept commissions and faithfully reproduce a missing knife or fork from an heirloom silver service no longer in production. The courtyard of Richard Ginori’s flagship store (Via de’ Rondinelli 17r), where you can arrange special commissions for monogrammed services, is covered in stunning Ginori majolica. And you’ll find personalized linens of the highest quality at Pratesi (Lungarno Corsini 32-34r) or Loretta Caponi (Piazza degli Antinori 4r).
A visit to the Palazzo Medici Riccardi (Via Cavour 3) is a must around Christmastime for Benozzo Gozzoli’s luminous fresco, Procession of the Magi. (Lorenzo the Magnificent is the fellow with the Prince Valiant bob.) Countess Simonetta Brandolini d’Adda, an American who has lived in Florence for 30 years and knows everyone, founded Friends of Florence, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving the city’s artistic heritage. They are currently researching the best way to clean Michelangelo’s David in time for his 500th birthday next year. Programs for patrons include invitations to view collections not open to the public, as well as luncheons and dinners hosted by Florentine aristocrats in their palazzi. (011-39-055-223064; www.friendsofflorence.org) —Mimi Murphy