A missed bus to Florence, torrential downpour, no umbrella, and a suitcase on the verge of breaking was as bleak as my day could get at 9 PM. As I waited for someone to let me in the hostel that once used to be a convent, I mulled over my options for dinner. At this point, I lacked the patience and spontaneity to search for something online and try a new restaurant. The only correct answer to my dinner problem was, of course, the supermarket.

I have always loved supermarkets. Maybe it’s the domesticity of it, or perhaps I am just a romantic. There are so few things in life you can count on: an Italian supermarket is one of them. It does not matter whether it is a Conad, Esselunga, Coop, or any other–it’ll always deliver.