From SAVEUR Issue #156 It's a cool thursday evening, and Paolo Vitale dodges his tiny Fiat through the cobblestone streets of Naples like it's an escaped bumper car. We speed past crumbling cathedrals desanctified by graffiti and 15th-century apartment buildings flying tattered flags of laundry from wrought-iron balconies. Tiny shrines are embedded into building walls. Jesus Christ is everywhere. No sleep on the flight from New York last night, and I'm experiencing that sort of anxiety codependent travelers like me are apt to feel when we leave home without someone who loves us. I start to worry I won't survive this ride, that I won't get to experience even one bite of the iconic food I've come here to eat a food I consider part of my heritage.