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May/June 2023 IX MAGAZINE AT PAGE 32 DID YOU KNOW? Florentine brunch. Between gourmet preparations and traditional foods EGGS BENEDICT, TOAST WITH AVOCADO, BACON, SMOKED SALMON, PANCAKES, SAVOURY WAFFLES. THE CHOICE IS WIDE: FROM MEAT TO VEGETABLES, FROM FISH TO CHEESE. YOU NAME IT. AND WHY MISS OUT ON A COCKTAIL? A SUNDAY NOW SEEMS INCOMPLETE WITHOUT BRUNCH, THIS ‘LATE MORNING MEAL’ THAT IS NO LONGER BREAKFAST BUT NOT YET LUNCH. IT IS NOT EASY TO DETERMINE WHETHER IT ORIGINATED AROUND THE HUNTING RITUALS OF THE LANDED GENTRY IN LATE 19TH CENTURY ENGLAND, OR IN AMERICA IN THE 1930S IN THE GLAMOROUS WAKE OF THE LIVES OF HOLLYWOOD STARS OF THOSE YEARS WHEN TRANSCONTINENTAL TRAINS STOPPED IN CHICAGO FOR A LATE MORNING MEAL. OVER TIME, BRUNCH HAS BECOME A POPULAR SOCIAL RITUAL, OPENING UP A MOMENT OF LEISURE IN WHICH TO SLOW DOWN THE PACE, FORGET THE RULES AND FOCUS SOLELY ON THE PLEASURE OF SHARING AND BEING TOGETHER. LET’S DISCOVER HOW TYPICAL FLORENTINE FOOD AND GOURMET PREPARATIONS MEET IN THIS LATE BREAKFAST MIXED WITH LUNCH, WHICH ALSO PLEASANTLY OCCUPIES THE EARLY AFTERNOON IN TWO CHARMING FLORENTINE HOSPITALITY VENUES: THE FOUR SEASONS HOTEL IN BORGO PINTI AND VILLA CORA ON THE FIRST FLORENTINE HILLS. by Gianluca Donadini If you get up too late for breakfast but are perhaps early for lunch and like the table to be sovereign until late afternoon, brunch is a must for a different Sunday. It has been so since brunch became a true symbol of exclusivity and social prestige when film stars descended on The Pump Room at Chicago’s Ambassador Hotel in the 1930s for a ‘late morning meal’ forced by a ten- hour stop-over on the long train journey from New York to Los Angeles and all the restaurants in the ‘Windy City’ respected Sunday closure. It was for Christian families fasting on the morning of Sunday mass to receive Communion, and for Jewish families who - also on Sunday - had little to celebrate without the rite of mass. And, in a more democratic form, it was in the 1950s and 1960s a social glue for the American family: a chance for everyone to eat together at modest prices, granting the woman, increasingly an integral part of the workforce, much-needed Sunday relief away from the cooker. Eggs Benedict, avocado toast, bacon, pancakes, and savoury waffles are the tradition, although modern restaurateurs have expanded the offerings to include multiple courses served as a buffet of strictly local foods and star-studded gourmet preparations. The offerings can be bizarre, from the most informal to the luxurious, plentiful and varied. These days we are a long way from the England hunt breakfasts of the English lords of the late 19th century, based on chicken liver, eggs, meat, bacon, fresh fruit and pastries from which brunch seems to originate. And each city has developed its own idea of brunch. Two eggs Bènedict and a Bellini in New York? A Dim Sum accompanied by Yuan Yang in Hong Kong? An oefs en cocotte ou saumon fumé and a Bloody Mary in Paris? You name it. We are in Florence, a city I love. I don’t get up late on Sundays. I walk along the boulevards to San Miniato al Monte and further up to Arcetri, at the foot of the observatory. And it is nice to have Florence all in one glance, while still being in the open countryside unexpectedly descending to the Arno along Via San Leonardo, little more than a lane wide, as far as Porta San Giorgio, where the medieval walls still protect the city. And hunger beckons, for it is no longer breakfast time, although historic cafés and pastry shops offer relief to the weary walker. And since hunger doesn’t wait for lunchtime and the desire for conviviality shows the same urgency, I dive into the poetics of a breakfast that is not lunch and a lunch that is not breakfast, into a brunch that is more than the sum of the two parts. So let’s discover brunch in two charming places of Florentine hospitality: the Four Seasons Hotel in Borgo Pinti and Villa Cora. I am sure I will eat my fill and not take away the pleasure of berlingare at length, which in Florence is more than just chattering away with a full belly. And I pray to God that the wine does not turn me into a tattameo . Affabulator I remain, and, I hope, not a fool, even after a glass of the right one. FOUR SEASONS HOTEL Palazzo Scala Della Gherardesca has a geometric beauty. There is no lack of decoration and the inner courtyard has a portico of unique grace with its round arches. It is carnival. A cascade of masks, the essential kind that cover the eyes, or at most the face, float by in their pastel colours anticipating spring. The Atrium bar and the Palagio open for Sunday brunch. If the Atrium is a muffled lounge that leads to conversation while sipping an Edoardo Sandri drink while listening to music in the background, the Palagio is a cerebral and airy refreshment in shades of silver and lavender, with an almost