“Meet me tomorrow at 8am at the lobby. We will begin the day with SUGAR.” That’s the late-night message our group receives from our local tour guide, Matteo, before the first day of Intrepid’s Italy Real Food Adventure. Our 10-person tour group – including two Canadian couples and solo travellers from the United States, Canada and Melbourne – will spend the next eight days eating our way across the north of Italy and down to Rome.

Here are the crucial culinary rules we learned along the way, beginning with that text message.

We start our food odyssey in Venice, ambling through the island city’s labyrinthine laneways to get to our first stop: Dal Mas Pasticceria on the main strip of Strada Nova. Matteo orders us a selection of pastries – plain and filled croissants, flaky foldovers and danishes with lemon cream – to enjoy with our morning coffees at the bar. “This is how they start the day in Venice,” he says. And who are we to argue with tradition? We all glance in the direction of the Canadian dietitian in our group as she gives a generous nod of approval before we polish off both trays.

Later, Matteo takes us to a bar in Dorsoduro – Venice’s university district, filled with low-key eateries and vintage boutiques – for cicchetti (small snacks eaten before or after dinner, like a Venetian version of tapas, which are offered in every local bar we visit here). Over a few bites, bottles of wine, and eventually grappa shots, our group is getting to know each other, and our leader starts to discuss Italian food culture, including some serious no-noes: never crack spaghetti in half, don’t twirl it with a spoon either, and “god forbid” you use a knife and fork, he says, before teaching us how to speak Italian without words, using a series of increasingly exaggerated hand gestures (“Please, use these responsibly”).

After an exhilarating water taxi ride through Venice’s winding canals, the clouds turn grey and a few members of our group escape the storm at an old-school trattoria Matteo recommends in the Cannaregio district. We dive into generous portions of chewy spaghetti with local scampi, mussels, clams and octopus, and a creamy risotto with delicate prawns and fresh zucchini. Matteo’s words from the night before echo in our mind – among them, “Never put parmesan on seafood!” He says the strong taste of the cheese overwhelms the subtle flavours of the seafood. And while I’m partial to a little cheese (particularly a bitey pecorino) on a seafood pasta, I refrain out of respect for Matteo’s stance (and to avoid the disapprobation of our waiter).

We’ve arrived in Bologna, nicknamed La Grassa (the Fat One) for its rich cuisine and famous cured meats, cheese and stuffed pastas. I’ve already indulged in a pizza with mortadella, pork sausage and salami before we head to our pasta cooking class at Il Salotto di Penelope, beyond the city’s medieval walls. Our teacher Michelle, an American chef who moved to Bologna 12 years ago, greets each of us with a glass of local red wine and tells us we’ll be making tagliatelle and tortelloni from scratch. There’s already a pot of bolognaise simmering on the stove, but it’s simply called ragu here – and you’d never serve it with spaghetti. The thin noodles simply aren’t the right vessel for the rich, meaty sauce. It’s best served with thicker, hand-cut tagliatelle, which Michelle tells us should be “6.5 millimetres uncooked, 7.5 millimetres cooked, and that’s written in law”. She’s barely even joking.

It’s no exaggeration to say I had gelato almost daily on my Italy Real Food Adventure. But you don’t want just any old gelato, even in its homeland. Matteo guides us through Bologna, beneath its weather-shielding porticoes, to find the best gelato in the city, while sharing a few key tips. First, look for the sign “artigianale”, which usually suggests the “artisanal” product is made on-site with natural ingredients. That means pistachio and banana should be brownish, never bright green or yellow – that’s artificial colouring. You don’t want to see towering mounds of the stuff either; if the gelato is hidden away in metal tins (pozzetti), it’s a good sign it’s high quality.

I instantly devour my salted Sicilian pistachio and creamy semifreddo zabaglione gelato as the others in our group take their time (including Broadsheet photographer Kate Shanasy, who is valiantly taking photos with one hand and holding a melting gelato cone in the other). Matteo patiently waits for every last one of us to finish our afternoon snack. “Italians don’t eat and walk,” he informs us, before we begin our stroll through Bologna’s city centre, past the leaning medieval towers and Renaissance palaces of Piazza Maggiore. Eating here is a leisurely cultural and social experience, says Matteo, and one to be savoured.

The group visits a charming acetaia in a dusty-pink 19th-century villa, where the Barbieri family has been producing traditional balsamic vinegar of Modena for generations. The thick, syrupy liquid known as “black gold” is made from 100 per cent grape must, aged in barrels for a minimum of 12 years to produce incredibly complex flavours, much like wine. But you won’t find it served with olive oil and bread – that’s not an Italian tradition. Real-deal balsamic vinegar is for drizzling over salads, veggies and meaty sauces. Or – in the case of the sweet balsamic vinegar (aged for 25 years in cherry wood) that we’re lucky enough to taste – vanilla gelato and fresh strawberries.

When in Rome, eat carbonara. Or cacio e pepe. Or amatriciana. The holy trinity of pastas are everywhere in the Eternal City, all showered in funky, salty pecorino romano. And we’re sampling all three at a local trattoria far from the tourist traps. Matteo was born and raised in Rome, so he’s taking us where the locals go, as evinced by the suits and priests waiting for a table. After three kinds of pasta, we’re stuffed. But we’re not finished yet: Matteo illustrates the act known as fare la scarpetta (literally, “to do the little shoe”, i.e. to mop up every last bit of sauce with your bread). It’s an important ritual, he tells the group, and not just about avoiding food waste, but showing respect and appreciation for the food and the cook, which is really, quite admirably, the basis of all of Italy’s strict culinary rules.

This article is produced by Broadsheet in partnership with Intrepid Travel. Intrepid’s Italy Real Food Adventure tour is a fully guided eight-day trip that includes all transport and accommodation. Starting in Venice and finishing in Rome, it includes a stay in a traditional Tuscan farmhouse, a cooking class in Bologna and a visit to a Parmigiano Reggiano cheese factory. Find out more here.