When I was a child, Carnevale was the occasion to don some improbable outfit, usually involving satin gowns and glitter or, depending on the mood of the year, a musketeer hat and a plastic sword. Possibly already nodding to what was to become my academic field of research, I also had a penchant for Roman warriors and fondly remember a cardboard helmet topped with red yarn I had made once, silently and patiently helped by my grandmother, when I was in 4th or 5th grade.  

That was Carnevale for us children: a moment to dream, to put on make up and colorful clothes, to go to dances and, of course, to dig into the deliciousness of its typical food. As a Piedmontese, it would have been bugie - known as chiacchiere or frappe in other parts of Italy - and friscieu, those warm, soft and sweet dough balls, deep fried and rolled in sugar I still adore today: my favorite were those with raisins, but the apple ones were to die for, too.