Naples eats standing up. This three-day route runs from the Pignasecca market stalls and the Porta Nolana fish tanks to six-hour ragù, fiocchi di neve in the Sanità and fried polenta on the Vomero, ending over Greco di Tufo in Chiaia.
Naples' oldest street market trades daily from about 08:00 to 14:00 along Via Pignasecca: crates of alici, mozzarella di bufala dripping whey, bundles of friarielli, and taralli 'nzogna e pepe sold warm by the bag.
A marble counter on Piazza Pignasecca serving 'o pere e 'o musso since the 1930s: boiled pig's trotter and cow's muzzle sliced cold into a paper cone, dressed with lemon, salt and a sprig of lupini beans.
The fish market behind the medieval gate opens before dawn and winds down mid-afternoon. Tanks hold live moscardini and gamberi; sea urchins are split open on the spot, and stalls fry pesce fritto to order in paper.
Open on Piazza Trieste e Trento since 1860, this is where the caffè sospeso began — an espresso paid forward for a stranger who cannot afford one. The bar also turns out sfogliatella riccia and babà soaked in rum.
Pasquale Pintauro carried the convent recipe for sfogliatella riccia down from the Amalfi coast to Via Toledo in 1818. The tiny shopfront still bakes the ridged shells in batches through the morning, filled with ricotta and candied citron.
A narrow room on Via Giovanni Paladino built around one dish: ragù napoletano, meat simmered six hours in tomato until it collapses. Served over ziti spezzati, or as a bowl of sauce with bread for scarpetta.
Deep in the Sanità, Poppella invented the fiocco di neve — a small brioche puff filled with whipped ricotta and milk cream, dusted white. Trays sell out through the afternoon and queues run along Via Arena alla Sanità.
Third-generation pizzaiolo Gino Sorbillo works the family oven on Via dei Tribunali, producing a wetter, puffier cornicione than the older school — the counterpoint every Neapolitan will argue with you about.
Neapolitan espresso is short, dark and pre-sweetened — say amaro if you want it without sugar. Mexico has roasted its own blend beside Piazza Dante since 1950 and sells the beans by the kilo at the back counter.
Ride the Chiaia funicular up to Via Cimarosa, where this 1936 counter fries to order: crocchè di patate, zeppoline studded with seaweed, frittatine di pasta bound with béchamel, and scagliozzi of fried polenta.
Naples' 1894 chocolate house still runs its wooden factory in Chiaia. The Foresta bar is moulded to look like tree bark, and the nudo pralines are made without a shell — the factory shop sells broken offcuts by weight.
A wine bar wedged into Vico Belledonne a Chiaia, pouring Campanian bottles by the glass — Falanghina and Greco di Tufo from the hills, Taurasi and Lacryma Christi grown on Vesuvius — with taralli and cheese at the counter.