The search for the elusive "secret bakery"

In Florence there are numerous bakeries that American students refer to as “secret bakeries”, although my Italian roommate, Marta, assures us they’re not a secret. These are bakeries that open in the early hours of the morning to prepare for the next day and have clearly recognized the opportunity of selling warm pastries to hungry students returning home around two or three in the morning after a night of drinking. On our first failed attempt to find this magical place, we had been guided (or really, misguided) by Marta’s vague directions that the Bakery was a few blocks away and that we would just be able to smell it. We could definitely smell the delicious pastries baking but, as I angrily told Marta later, “we’re not dogs,” and our noses failed to lead us right to the source. The second failed attempt a few nights later was accompanied by crushing disappointment followed by a serious meltdown when I got home (although that may have been more due to my anxiety finally catching up with me than to a lack of chocolate). Feeling very much defeated, there were no attempts to find the secret bakery for a few nights until, this past Saturday we were out with Marta. Around 1:30 or 2:00, we were able to rally everyone to head home with the promise of Marta guiding us to the secret bakery. When we finally reached it, I was glad to have her with us. As I had been picturing a secret door, behind which lying a magical world of treats displayed for my taking, I was surprised when Marta walked up to a glass door, through which we could see the kitchen and bakers hard at work and asked for five or so anything’s with chocolate. The warm chocolate filled croissant that I paid one Euro for was a little taste of heaven. The chocolate oozing out of its center tasted almost like chocolate mousse and was unlike anything a pastry in America would contain. Although plenty of it ended up on both my face and the inside of my coat sleeve, I’m pretty sure I slept with a smile on my face that night. Last night when we returned, this time without Marta, my anything with chocolate was fried… yum. Now, for the rest of the semester, on a late night, I plan to forego that last five Euro beer that I really don’t need anyway, and get five warm anything’s with chocolate instead.