🐙🇮🇹🍝 First night in Bari, and it’s like I never really left. Every time I step off the plane, I feel like I’m coming home. Only this time I came with the full gang: Andra (my daughter), Carmen, Gheo (too famous to need an introduction) with Delia and Iulia, plus Nae and Maria. The idea of the trip that came to us right on Saint Alexander’s Day? Checked. The 100 km run? It’s coming.
Since it was obvious the stomach needed a proper inauguration, we swung by Mastro Ciccio—that street food place that brags about having “il miglior street food di Bari.” I don’t know if it’s the best, but the crispy polpo I inhaled in a sandwich was so spicy it knocked your hat off and made you let out a cute little “vaffanculo” when you bit into it. So damn good. 🤪
After wandering up and down those little streets that seem designed solely for the pleasure of getting beautifully lost, we ended up on the Lungomare di Bari. First time in my life I got on that panoramic Ferris wheel. I did get a bit of a lump in my throat when they stopped us at the top and it looked like they’d forgotten about us, but I pretended to be zen. Let’s say. 🤭
Then we made it to Martinucci for pasticciotti. Oh man… those aren’t pastries, they’re sirens—singing sweetly and luring you into their fluffy trap of silky creams. I dunked them in Aperol Spritz, because that’s what you do when you’re a serious person on vacation. No limits, no shame.
A short walk by the Basilica di San Nicola, lit up like a fairy tale, and then straight to Lo Svevo—the restaurant I try never to miss. Nae was a bit skeptical after Mastro Ciccio and was counting down to the famous octopus with fava beans I kept raving about.
And this is where the magic starts. Their octopus is something else… sinful, fluffy perfection. So tender that if you look at it the wrong way, it breaks apart. The fava beans are actually a thick, smooth purée that spreads across the plate like a cream. On top come the caramelized onions—sweet and soft—those sun-dried tomatoes soaked in that good, glossy olive oil, and the pieces of polpo (octopus) browned exactly the way they should be. Everything smells of sea, smoke, good oil, and the south of Italy. That plate hits you right in the back of the head with an appetite like you haven’t eaten in three days. Exactly the kind of dish that instantly triggers drool and that animal impulse: leave me alone, I want to eat.
We also had parmigiana di melanzane, little sausages from a beef-and-pork mix, a platter of cheeses from Puglia, roasted peppers that knocked you flat, and, of course, patate, riso e cozze. The kind of food that looks like it was made from whatever was in the house, but is pure history for this area. A dish born in fishermen’s families: potatoes, rice, mussels laid in raw, then everything slowly, slowly gratinéed, until you get something that looks weird but tastes like “I’ve got nothing to complain about.” The first time I tried it—last year—I wasn’t convinced. Now I would’ve ordered it again. That creamy layer between the potatoes and the mussels is exactly the combination that wins you over.
At the end, it was like someone sensed us. Vito showed up—the owner, a friend of mine from last year. Family restaurant, warm guy, jokes, stories, the whole thing. He recognized us and we chatted a bit about octopus, about last year, about what else we’re cooking and what we’re running. He even brought us a digestif… basically a schnapps that set your throat on fire, but effective—bless it.
And of course, we didn’t leave without their beer tiramisù. Weird idea, surprisingly good in real life.
That’s how our evening in Bari began. Exactly how I knew it had to be: good food, walks, friends, and little adventures that piece the story together. 🤗
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