In Venice, during the months before Lent, the air smelled of frying dough and powdered sugar. Fritole were everywhere, sold by the fritoleri from small wooden stalls, still warm and dusted white. These licensed vendors held a monopoly granted by the Serenissima Republic itself. To make fritole without permission was to break Venetian law.

The dough is yeasted, which gives these fritters their characteristic lightness. They are not cake-like. They are not dense. When made properly, a fritola is pillowy inside, with a thin golden crust that shatters under the teeth. The raisins, plumped in grappa, burst with boozy sweetness. The pine nuts add richness and a faint resinous note that is unmistakably Venetian.

Do not confuse these with the castagnole of Emilia-Romagna or the zeppole of Naples. Each region has its Carnival fritter, and each is distinct. Fritole belong to Venice. The grappa, the pine nuts, the particular softness of the batter: these are Venetian signatures. What you keep out matters as much as what you put in. There is no cinnamon here, no vanilla, no orange flower water. The flavors are grappa, citrus zest, and the clean taste of good frying.