The first time either of us ever visited Trieste was with a group of American and Italian chefs. Coming from the ancient city of Aquileia, we drove nearly an hour out of our way to hit the seaside town at the head of the Adriatic. The leader of our group lined us all up for a photo on the main plaza overlooking the sea and then let us free for 20 minutes. The smart ones followed him to Gangemi at the juncture of Piazza della Borsa and Piazza d’Unita.

‶This is the best gelato in Italy,″ he pronounced, which was saying something coming from a Neapolitan who only grudgingly swooned over pistachio gelato in Sicily. Now that it’s midsummer and we are stranded 5,000 miles away, we can almost taste the complex caramel gelato when we see that drip poised on the edge of the cup.