Long before Neapolitans fell in love with dried pasta – a luxury food mainly reserved for the nobles until the late 1800s and only later a popular, filling meal – and earning their reputation as mangiamaccheroni (pasta eaters), they were called mangiafoglie – literally, “leaf eaters.” The moniker referred to the habit of consuming significant quantities of the vegetables that grow in the thriving farms at the foot of Vesuvius or in the countryside areas encircling the city center. Common folk cleverly found simple yet effective ways to amplify the vegetables’ flavor, often frying them or accompanying them with tomatoes, herbs, and other ingredients, while precious products such as raisins and pine nuts were – again – the prerogative of the noble class.

Often overshadowed by the ubiquity, convenience, and utmost deliciousness of the classic pizza – in this case, specifically the street version called pizza a portafoglio (folding pizza) – is another typical Neapolitan street food whose history is linked to the royal family: the parigina. Commonly sold, already cut into generous rectangular portions, found in bakeries, simple eateries, and deli shops, this is a different take on the Neapolitan savory tradition. The parigina tantalizingly combines various layers of flavors and textures: a variably thick leavened dough at the base, a well-calibrated filling of tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and baked ham in the middle, and a thin and flaky puff pastry to cover it all.

Among the many legends about pizza in Naples, the most famous and widespread – even though widely confirmed as inaccurate – is the one about the birth of the margherita pizza. Time and time again the story has been repeated, according to which this most beloved pizza was born in the summer of 1889, baked at the Capodimonte royal palace. Made by the cook and pizzaiolo Raffaele Esposito of Brandi Pizzeria, the pizza was intended as an homage to Queen Margherita di Savoia, wife of the first king of Italy (as a united nation) Umberto I, and to the country's three-colored flag.

The birthplace of pizza, Naples is awash with unbeatable pizzerias. Don’t want to miss out on the perfect pie? Culinary Backstreets has you covered. Our team of locals has handpicked the best of the best pizzas in Naples, highlighting the art of the city’s pizzaiolos – now recognized on the list of UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage.

Biting into a freshly-made globe of mozzarella, porcelain smoothness yields to a creamy interior and milk trickles down the cheeks. For any Neapolitan, this is true pleasure. And everyone knows the best spot for such an afternoon delight is at a cheese factory in the countryside – namely in the Caserta and Salerno provinces. There, some of the best Mozzarella di Bufala Campana DOP is shaped daily from fresh buffalo milk. For those of us stuck in the city center and craving that addictive bite of fresh mozzarella, one of Sogni di Latte’s two locations is our first stop.

The hordes of pizza lovers who descend on Naples usually head for Via dei Tribunali in the city’s historical center, famed for its parade of pizzerias. If they arrive by train, they will exit the central station, go straight through Piazza Garibaldi and head right for the Centro Storico, where the guidebooks they carry always (erroneously) say they will find the best pizzerias. Locals in the know, meanwhile, head ten minutes in the opposite direction, towards an area that has less foot traffic and appeal for tourists, but that is home to Carmnella – truly one of Naples’s best pizzerias. Evidence of this can be seen in the pizzeria’s dining room; by noon, Carmnella is already full, unusual in a city like Naples, where locals are used to having lunch between 1 and 3 p.m.

In Neapolitan dialect, “È Pronto ‘O Mangià” means simply: “Food is ready!” It is the perfect name for Mattia Grossi’s trattoria, a small, unassuming space on via Cesare Rosaroll. We are welcomed to this family-owned restaurant with an undeniably warm atmosphere: stone walls lined with old photos and newspaper clippings, smiling waiters, music and chatter. È Pronto ‘O Mangià matches the simplicity of its name: nothing sophisticated, nothing gourmet – just true, homemade Neapolitan cuisine.

The Galleria Principe di Napoli’s beautiful arcades and art-deco ceiling made of iron and glass – built in the second half of the 19th century at the site of an ancient grain storehouse – stood silent for long time. Once a buzzing commercial and cultural hub in the heart of the city, with two of its three wings connecting the National Archaeological Museum to the Academy of Fine Arts, the Galleria was confiscated during the Fascist era and used to project propaganda films, shutting down its shops and venues. In the eighties, it was used for public offices for a time before it was left abandoned. Recently, though, the space has been brought to life, thanks to a call for bids and a handful of businesses that took on the challenge, such as a bike shop, a B&B and the lovely Lazzarelle Bistrot, among others.

“It all started with a picture of a millefeuille…but we didn’t make any,” Luigi Lauri begins, as he tells us the story of how his family’s bakery, Antica Pasticceria Lauri, has become a unique fixture in the Neapolitan culinary landscape. In a city like Naples, having the word “Antico” (old) preceding the name of an eatery of any kind conveys a sense of comfort to the customer, a guarantee that the place sticks to the beloved, never-changing recipes of the Neapolitan tradition. This promise certainly doesn’t apply to Antica Pasticceria Lauri. Lard, one of the staple ingredients of Neapolitan patisserie, is banned here. And, although it seems impossible to imagine a babà, the local mushroom-shaped sponge cake, not soaked in the rum that defines its very essence…well, here, that’s exactly how it’s made.

Spring in Naples is the sweetest season. As in many Italian and Mediterranean cities, the sunlight is gentle and temperatures are mild, which makes walking the ups and downs of the hilly city more enjoyable. And, should the blue of the sky be shaded by the clouds, the white-and-blue celebratory flags which anticipate the long-awaited local soccer team’s victory at the national soccer championship – defeating the Neapolitans’ famous superstition – restore the appropriate shade at every corner of the city. If it’s still too early – for most of people, at least – to take a swim in the gulf or cruise it on a kayak, this is the perfect time to explore Naples on foot, discovering its unexpected green soul.

Long before Halloween – nowadays a popular event marked by pumpkins and costumes here in Italy, too – arrived in Naples, we had Carnival. A mix of pagan and religious festivity, celebrated with exuberance and (mainly culinary) excess before Lent, it culminates with Mardi Gras, the Tuesday in February which falls six weeks before Easter. In Naples, Carnival used to imply embarrassing homemade costumes and the desperate effort to escape egg throwing in the streets on the way home from school – as well as much more pleasant rites, including the food-related ones. Which, luckily, still endure. The widespread Italian habit of frying food for Carnival here takes the irregular, indented shape of chiacchiere – thin, crunchy fritters sprinkled with powdered sugar, which are also common in other regions of Italy but with different names – traditionally served with sanguinaccio, a decadent chocolate sauce originally made with pork’s blood, to honor the animal’s sacrifice.

Giovedì mezza giornata: “Half day on Thursday.” The writing in bold yellow and red on the closed shutter of the shop is not only a way to inform customers of the working schedule. It’s something more: an ode to the good old days when all grocery stores in Naples observed the half-day shift to enjoy a midweek break, a statement of respect towards unwritten “holy rules” and choosing personal time and human relationships over business. Sticking to old ways is what makes Salumeria Malinconico a special place. Yet nothing is dusty here; nor gloomy, despite the literal meaning of the family surname displayed on the sign, which translates to “melancholic.”

Despite the difficulties of the Covid-19 lockdowns, the pandemic now feels far away (even if it sometimes tries to raise its head). After months of empty streets, Naples is so full of tourists these days that some areas are nearly impossible to walk through. Hotels and B&Bs are full and restaurants and bars are doing booming business, with visitors and locals alike. But off the beaten track, we still managed to find little corners of peace and gastronomic pleasure this past year. Reuniting with old friends this summer at Spiedo d’Oro, a hole-in-the-wall eatery steps away from busy Pignasecca market, reminded us of just how glad we were to see the streets and little spots like this busy again.

Il Grottino (meaning “The Little Cave”) is a small wine bar located in an area of Naples still not explored by many tourists. Despite being situated in the heart of the old town, the upper Decumani area is off the beaten track and feels like a small oasis (hopefully for a long time to come). Here, we are just a few meters from the Naples Cathedral, and after feasting our eyes on its baroque beauty, Il Grottino is the perfect place to rest and enjoy a glass of wine and a bite. Il Grottino was born in 1980 thanks to Antonio De Luca 64, and his wife Maria, 61. When he was 10 years old, Antonio, the son of a carpenter, started working as a shop boy in a local delicatessen.

Naples’s Quartieri Spagnoli, the "Spanish Quarters,” are a part of the city with a long and tumultuous history. Founded in 1500, the Quartieri Spagnoli were created by Don Pedro De Toledo to accommodate the Spanish soldiers who were residing or passing through Naples. With the arrival of the soldiers, the network of narrow streets became a hotbed for illegal economic activities, from cigarette smuggling to drug dealing to prostitution, earning the district a bad reputation that stuck for centuries – even Neapolitans from other neighborhoods were afraid of entering the Quartieri Spagnoli. In recent decades, however, the atmospheric district has become one of the city’s tourist attractions, recognized as one of the centers of Neapolitan gastronomy as well as a place of craftsmanship, cultural and anthropological initiatives.