The first time I ever tasted a Florentine was actually in the famous cafe Rivoire on the Piazza Duomo, in Florence. I remember the guy I was with at the time saying we are not going in there as I plonked myself down at the most prominent table for people watching, it was obviously going to be expensive. It’s the most spectacular position right next to the Duomo, prime real estate so the only thing to order with my coffee was a florentine. I remember it being extremely expensive. The top tip I later discovered is to order coffee at the counter, a local practise, and leave the tables outside for people like me, happy to pay the massive premium for a view of the imposing cathedral with the largest Duomo (dome) in the world, an architectural feat of engineering, built by Filippo Brunelleschi, 1420-1436, 16 years to complete and never since repeated.

Since that visit as a 2nd year Fine Art student I’ve been hooked not just on the biscuits, but the city and the experience at Rivoire. It’s the type of place where you can see the Italians pop off the page like a tableau, the people of Florence are extra, more stylish, more confident, it’s an energy that differentiates them from mere mortals, the tourists. However hard I have tried to emulate their energy, I have returned a couple of times since, I always find myself not quite meeting the mark, the casual elegance, the swagger, something perhaps I have learned over time is inherited not imitated.

It is this feeling, sense of style my Mum treats me to with a box of Florentines from Fortnum and Mason. I don’t shop there on a regular basis, we’ll ever, I’d go broke but I do love the once a year in a box of these exquisite chewy chocolaty buttery tastes of heaven as a reminder that one day I shall return to the cafe and sit in the same seat, soaking up the ambiance that only a city like Florence can offer.

The biscuits cost a staggering £29.95 for me worth every penny to share a taste of Rivoire and the city with my friends.

Thanks Mum.

When I was growing up, it was a box of foxes biscuits we looked forward to. My grandmother lived close to the Foxes biscuit factory in Batley West Yorkshire and throughout the year she would buy the biscuits that didn’t make the grade from the factory shop, to save money. My mother would upgrade at Christmas to tins of 1st standard biscuits she would hand out to relatives and friends with poinsettia plants on the side, on her annual seasonal visits I endured with endless cups of tea.

The discount store at the factory I was tickled to discover is still open 20 years later and maintains strong local roots in the community. I am still very partial to a foxes biscuit, especially the pastel coloured sugared party rings however my adventures in Italy mean once a year I get the treat of a box of the Fortums Florentines. Just like Florence and Rivoire once tried you want to keep returning.

To the community; I hope if I am published, you enjoy my first attempt at snooping. Over Christmas 2025 I intend to write more. Some rants too. I usually begin a project, sometimes a jigsaw, I know nerdy, or some DIY, even worse, one of those girls who can hang wallpaper, this year I am attempting to snoop.