Forget pizza and pasta: Italy’s best food is a sandwich in this hilltop town

Pasta and pizza lovers, look away now – I’m going to say something controversial. Italy’s finest food is not to be found in some trendy trattoria in Naples, nor in some over-Instagrammed osteria in Rome. And mi scusi, Mr Tucci, but neither is it in that cutesy little fishing village on the Amalfi coast (where he declared spaghetti alla Nerano to be one of his all-time favourites in Searching for Italy).

To truly get to the crux of what makes this country so irresistible, the true foodie must look elsewhere. Round the back of a church, to be precise, in a small, hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop in Citta della Pieve.

This small Umbrian hill town – close to the border with Tuscany, about 50 kilometres from Perugia airport – is mostly known for being the birthplace of the “divine” Renaissance painter, Pietro “Perugino” Vannucci. Yet close to the duomo that houses two of his most revered artworks resides another (living) artist of sorts, whose creations are, I had been told, every bit as heavenly.

Luca Bartoccioni is the proprietor of Il Pizzicagnolo di Bartoccioni, a rustic, crypt-shaped kitchen with outside seating that serves what are, I’m reasonably certain, the best sandwiches in Italy.

“When you order, we bake the focaccia fresh for you right there and then,” he told me when I finally made my pilgrimage to his tiny restaurant last summer, placing a pint of red craft beer on the upturned barrel beside me while I tucked into a panino of mortadella and blu di vacca cheese (priced at €9 [$14.65] on the handwritten chalkboard). “Our sausages and red onion are from right here, and the cheese is from Todi, another hilltop town nearby.”

“Something else makes my sandwiches special, though,” Luca went on. “That’s ‘truth’, and it’s a word we use a lot in Citta. It means you have to give people what you promise. And when you do that, life becomes simple. It means you can believe what people say here.”

What a novel, and yet very simple, idea: a place where everyone says what they mean, and means what they say. It was my first inkling that there was more to this apparently sleepy little hill town than Italy’s best sandwich and the echoes of a renowned Renaissance painter.

The revelations had only just begun. Next, I discovered that Citta della Pieve is also known as the saffron capital of Italy. Each autumn, its 8000 residents celebrate a festival, the Zafferiamo, dedicated to the world’s most expensive spice, harvested from the crocus flowers growing in the patchwork of surrounding fields. It is deeply ingrained in the town’s identity – Perugino used it to create the yellow hues in some of his paintings and, during the Zafferiamo, Luca offers limited editions of his sandwiches which incorporate tiny amounts of it in the fillings and bread.

Any time of year, though, you can squeeze through one of Italy’s narrowest alleyways, the Vicolo Baciadonne (“Alley of the Kissed Women”), that cuts through rows of red-bricked cottages only 53 centimetres apart. Nearby you’ll find a museum, the Casa dello Zafferano, dedicated to saffron’s inseparable connection to this town, which can trace its history back to the Etruscan period.

My stay in Citta della Pieve coincided with the famous Palio dei Terzieri, a colourful festival which takes place – and practically takes over – the town during August, when locals dress in medieval costumes to commemorate the division of the commune, back in 1250, into three contrade (districts).

Just across the border in Tuscany, queen of pop Madonna was celebrating her 67th birthday at Siena’s own palio, watching the various contrade compete in the city’s glamorous bareback horse race. That’s all well and good, of course – but in more down-to-earth Citta, they settle their ancient rivalries in less glitzy (but equally thrilling) historic re-enactments, culminating in an archery contest, the Caccia del Toro, held in the scenic Piazza del Plebiscito next to Luca’s sandwich shop. The history behind it can all seem a bit opaque to an outsider but, like so much of Italy, you don’t need to understand it to be completely swept up in the magic of it all.

Before leaving Citta della Pieve, I couldn’t resist one more of Luca’s legendary sandwiches. When I returned to the shop, it was his ever-cheerful assistant, Andrea Ciculi, who served me. As the smell of freshly baked focaccia began to fill the tiny kitchen, I asked him what made him – and everyone else I’d met in the town – so serene and upbeat. He smiled and handed me my order – an uncomplicated, moreish combination of beef carpaccio and pecorino cheese.

“Life is simple here,” he said. “Quiet – most of the time – and relaxed. The town is beautiful, so life is beautiful too. It’s as simple as that.” And as I munched on my parting panino, I knew just what he meant.

In town, Hotel Vannucci has rooms from €149, including breakfast; just outside town, the Agristurismo Dandelion is a working farm with rooms from €120, including breakfast.

The Telegraph, London