While Venice has its canals, Treviso has its cream—specifically, the mascarpone-fueled battlegrounds of its annual tiramisu competitions, where pastry chefs duel over coffee ratios like knights jousting for honor. The city’s devotion to this dessert is matched only by its love of rustic, rib-sticking classics—the kind served at institutions like Ristorantino Carbone, where the crostata could anchor a small boat and the roast duck falls off the bone with a look.

This is where Gigia transitions from bar critic to culinary sovereign. Between tiramisu tastings (conducted with scientific disregard for human sampling rules), she holds court at Carbone, accepting pancetta offerings and judging the staff’s scratching technique. The rules are simple: impress the cat, and you might just survive Treviso’s relentless food wars.

Note: The tiramisu trophy is nice, but the real prize is Gigia’s slow blink of approval.