When I first heard the phrase “ZaZa,” I thought it might have referred to some strange dance move created decades ago, possibly performed by the Tracy Turnblad character, played by Ricki Lake, in the
original Hairspray (John Waters, 1988). I imagined Lake’s character
flailing her arms in the air, shaking her bum from left to right,
tapping her feet to the drum, and exclaiming, “ZaZa!” on a certain
beat. Thankfully, I had thought wrong: Instead of the ZaZa referring to
a dizzying dance stunt, it was the most tremendously tasty Trattoria in
Tuscany—a restaurant in Florence, whose food is so good, it may make
you want to flail your arms up in the air and yell ZaZa!
In the far back of a square, just beyond the San Lorenzo, in the Piazza del Mercato Centrale, a neon “ZaZa” sign hangs above the big Trattoria. Immediately, I was attracted, not only to the bright sign, but also the outdoor seating that the Florentine workers at ZaZa refuse to put to rest for the winter, despite the chilly weather. As my roommate and I approached the hostess stand, I thought to myself ‘Tonight, I will be eating dinner in style. Tonight, I will be eating true Italian cuisine,’ something I had not done yet since returning to Italy for the first time in two years.
Jill was done. For three weeks I'd been force feeding her on a
take-no-prisoners march through the restaurants of Italy. I had all
but nailed her feet to the floor. And then four days in Rome – dio
mio, Roma! If you don’t eat well in Rome, you’re an idiot.
The first time I ate at Coco Lezzone in Florence, it was at the invitation of film producer Dino De Laurentiis, who knows a thing or two about Italian cooking: 
Normally, one encounter with an old bear would terrify a person. It would probably scare a person out of the wilderness and into solitude
for an unforeseeable amount of time. It would most likely be an
experience worth putting behind and never having to relive. In fact,
the only person I have ever read of, other than circus acts and zoo
trainers, to have ever made his life about becoming friends with old
bears is Mr. Timothy Treadwell, who was deemed Grizzly Man by Mr.
Werner Herzog in a 2005 documentary by the same title. Treadwell was
the victim of one of the old bears he had become friends with during
his life in the wilderness with them.
“You know, I once saw an American TV show where someone was eating a fried Oreo.” This was the phrase that poured out my host in Torino’s mouth as we discussed the difference of food in each culture. I
couldn’t help but laugh. Instantly, an image of Oreos, fries,
chocolate, and dough being deep-fried at a county fair entered my mind.
‘In America, we can fry anything…even cheesesteaks,’ I thought.