The Panificio

We've been buying fresh bread every day or two from a bakery (panificio) in the next village. As far as we can tell, Camigliano has a butcher but no baker- and no candlestick maker either, in case you just couldn't stop your brain from completing the rhyme. So we drive a few minutes over to Segromigno en Monte, following winding one-lane roads that often have stone walls where you might wish a shoulder to be. We quickly learned to honk before going into a blind curve, just to warn anyone who might be coming the other way. It works out well that all the vehicles here are small (even delivery trucks) so that two can usually squeeze past each other when they meet. If it's going to be close, you fold in your side mirrors- an electronic feature on a lot of the cars. If it's impossible, then the car to the inside of the curve backs up to a place where the road was wider. It's all handled very politely... and speedily.

Back to the panificio though. It took until the 3rd trip for me to crest the learning curve. For one, I've never gotten bread from an authentic bakery, where you choose the loaf and have it cut to the portion size you want; two, I've now got to complete this alien-to-me process in Italian. (We're finding that we're not as spoiled with English speakers in the villages as we would be closer to the big cities.) Our first time to the panifcio, we were the first of a flood of customers to come through the door. I was overwhelmed by all the choices and their Italian descriptions, so i decided I would hang back and observe. But when another woman tried to make a selection, the woman behind the counter refused to take her order, gesturing toward me. Apparently it mattered that I came through the door first. I made some sort of ridiculous bowing gesture, and she mercifully moved on past me. I ended up ordering a half loaf of pane brutto, which turned out to be wheat bread.

And worth all of the embarrassment.


*unable to post pics today (?)