Over the last three months, as the Covid-19 pandemic forced us indoors, the members of my family have put on an average of two kilos. We spent lots of time cooking and talking about food, planning out the week’s menu well in advance. We prepared everything at home: bread, pizza, noodles, cakes and biscuits. My daughters even made sushi! In supermarkets, yeast was nowhere to be found, and we witnessed frenzied scenes whenever flour arrived. But there are some foods that just cannot be prepared at home, and these were the ones we craved.

On Saturday, May 2, we were finally able to eat real Neapolitan pizza once again. No more homemade pizza, thank goodness (a timely measure as yeast is becoming harder to find across Italy). The threats of Vincenzo De Luca, the president of the Campania region, to use flamethrowers in response to those who violated the lockdown bans didn’t come to fruition. A fire, however, was finally rekindled in Naples: that of the city’s thousands of pizza ovens. Pizza is back but you can only buy it takeaway or have it delivered to your home, with a series of health rules to follow. It is not possible to eat in a pizzeria, and this, we will see, completely alters the relationship between the city’s residents and their pizza.

Neapolitans have a special affinity for pasta. It’s a staple pantry, sure, but also more than that – in Naples, pasta is part of the pervading spirit of the place. Not only do we have great respect for this ingredient, but we also appreciate the minute differences between shapes, differences that would surely be overlooked elsewhere. This sensitivity, like many gastronomic rules, has been handed down for generations. With the aim of sharing such knowledge (and taking inspiration from my Pantry Raid presentation on Instagram Live), I put together a pasta guide, which will allow you to make and order pasta dishes as true Neapolitans do, and avoid the mistakes that true Neapolitans would never make.

We’re launching a regular Instagram Live series with our walk leaders called CB Pantry Raid – each person will give a guided tour of the local pantry and discuss the staples that have sustained their communities over the years. Tune in on Thursday, April 16, at 2 p.m. EDT (GMT-4) to hear Amedeo Colella, our Naples bureau chief, talk about the Neapolitan pantry, with a focus on pasta. As Amedeo wrote in his Coronavirus Diary, the markets in Naples initially saw a run on pasta, with only smooth penne pasta (penne lisce) remaining on the shelves (he obviously didn’t buy it, as they eat only ridged pasta in his house).

A famous Italian saying goes, “Christmas with yours and Easter with whomever you want.” Well, this year there wasn’t much of a choice: Easter was spent at home, with family. The lockdown in Italy has largely coincided with Lent (the 40 days leading up to Easter, from Ash Wednesday to Holy Saturday). Except that this year, our Lent will not end on Holy Saturday but looks to continue for a long time (at least until May 3). Jesus Christ rose again on Easter Sunday to fly to the heavens, but it would be enough for us to be able to leave the house.

The word “resilience” has come into fashion. I’ve heard it used everywhere in recent years, not only in the psychological field, where it was born, but also in a wide variety of disparate sectors. While I hate linguistic fashions, resilience is the only word that properly describes the ability of Naples’ long-standing family-run businesses to overcome traumatic events or periods of difficulty. I started thinking about this because the coronavirus has come in like a wrecking ball, one that risks destroying many companies. But, I wondered, how many punches in the face have the entrepreneurs of my city taken in the past? And how did they recover from what might have seemed at the moment an irreversible crisis?

Editor’s note: We don’t operate in Milan, but it's the home of our managing editor, Emma Harper. So we asked her to share her experience living under lockdown in the epicenter of Italy's outbreak. The first thing I noticed on lockdown in Milan, and the thing that has stuck with me the most, is the barking. Our apartment sits on a noisy thoroughfare, with cars and trams running by at all hours. But now, save for the errant tram, it’s quiet and still; the piercing, fearful dog barks ring out and bounce between the buildings that line my street, amplified by the silence. The only sound that can drown them out is an ambulance siren. It’s safe to say that the Milanese are dog people: Canines crowd the parks and streets, join their owners on the metro, and tag along for caffè and a brioche at the bar.

There’s some good news on the solidarity front. It’s especially nice to get good news since the coronavirus crisis in Italy goes beyond any disaster, any catastrophe I could have ever imagined. While there are few positive aspects to this experience, by nature I always see the glass half full. Professionally and psychologically, humanity will pay a high price, but I believe that we will recover soon. And my belief is buoyed by the solidarity shown in Naples (and that has sprung up all over the world).

A popular dessert in Naples and beyond, the zeppola di San Giuseppe, a deep-fried cream puff, is traditionally eaten on the Feast of St. Joseph (also called St. Joseph’s Day), on March 19, which is also when Father’s Day is celebrated in Italy. On this day, each Neapolitan traditionally eats several zeppole, despite their enormous size and rich filling. I have seen some that, with the addition of cream puffs, cream (inside and outside) and black cherries, weighed almost half a kilo.

Thursday, March 12, 11 a.m. My butt muscles start to hurt. I’ve been sitting for too many days, testing the resistance of Italian sofas (a small spot of national pride at a time when the rest of the world is scared of Italy). It is the fifth day of being confined indoors. We are following the #iorestoacasa (“I Stay Home”) decree of the government. In just four days everything has changed. Nobody dares to say, “It’s all an exaggeration.” Now the numbers are a confirmation – for some strange reason Italy has the highest number of infected people in the world after China.

In life, it’s never too late to try changing course. It’s not always possible, it’s not always easy, but when you succeed, what satisfaction. Seventy-year-old Raffaele Cardillo, with his smiling face and white beard, can attest to that. After 20 years spent working as a lawyer, shuttling between courts and meetings with defendants, and puzzling over lawsuits and problems to unravel, he decided to give up his law career and transform his passion – cooking – into a real job. Spending his evenings at the stove was a favorite pastime, the way he relaxed after a long day in court.

After a morning spent walking around the Fontanelle Cemetery, the oldest ossuary in Naples, and the Sanità market, we believe that we have created enough of a calorie deficit to face a fried pizza – the original pizza, born before the more familiar oven-baked variety, and a universally beloved dish in the Neapolitan cuisine – with self-acquittal. And in the Sanità neighborhood, there’s no question that we’ll be seeking out the fried pizza of Isabella De Cham. The 26-year-old makes creative and high-quality fried foods in an elegant and polished restaurant, with a black-and-white color scheme – not quite what you’d expect for a fried pizza joint, although the familiar warmth is still there.

Tomatoes, one of the joys of summer in most locales, thrive in Campania’s hot and sunny climate. Yet good tomatoes can be surprisingly hard to find in summer – the oval, longish, rather crisp varieties that are the region’s claim to fame are mostly used for cooking, and the best ones are canned or exported to richer parts of the world. Somewhat improbably, winter is the best time to eat fresh tomatoes in Naples. As soon as the days get shorter and the nights get colder, small cherry tomatoes with a distinctly pointy end start to appear at every vegetable stall and restaurant throughout the city – this particular version of the fruit is known as pomodorino del piennolo del Vesuvio, or simply piennolo.

The excavations at Oplontis, located in the modern city of Torre Annunziata, are often overlooked in favor of its much larger, much grander neighbor: Pompeii. Yet like all little-known things, this archeological site is full of incredible surprises, like the magnificent villa said to have belonged to Poppaea Sabina, the second wife of the Emperor Nero. A UNESCO World Heritage Site since 1997, the villa is certainly worth a visit (plus, you’ll avoid the tourists who come from far and wide to invade Pompeii). And after having “discovered” Oplontis, there is a small gastronomic treasure to be discovered: DocSicil.

In a city with such a conservative attitude toward gastronomy, it’s rare for new foods, new preparations and new trends to flourish. Naples has continued to reject the aggressive advances of globalized food: The number of fast food chains can be counted on one hand (although many have tried their luck in the city), and the latest international fashions, from poke to kebab, struggle to make inroads. There is one exception: the muffin, an American dessert that has become widespread in the city’s bars. But, of course, Neapolitans proceeded to modify this novelty according to the tastes and traditions of South Italy. It is not uncommon to find rustic savory muffins, made with ricotta and cigoli (pork crackling).