The traditional Venetian frittella has a hole in the middle. It helped the dough cook evenly in the oil, and it let the fritoleri, the frittella makers whose guild survived until the end of the nineteenth century, thread them on sticks and sell them through the streets. They are Carnival food, fried dough studded with raisins and pine nuts and rolled in sugar, and Carnival usually lands in February, which makes this the month to come to Venice hungry.
Cream and zabaione fillings came later, and plenty of shops now sell all three kinds. Pasticceria Tonolo, a family business on Calle San Pantalon in Dorsoduro, is where many Venetians go for them. Rosa Salva, one of the city's oldest pastry makers, still fries the version with the hole. Buy one of each and argue about it. Eat them warm, too; with February lows around 3°C, the paper bag doubles as a hand-warmer.
Carnival ends on Shrove Tuesday, so its dates move with Easter and are worth confirming on the official programme before you book. The Volo dell'Angelo, an acrobat's descent on a wire from the Campanile, traditionally opens the celebrations in Piazza San Marco. On Ash Wednesday the frittelle leave the counters until next winter.
Beside the frittelle sit galani, sheets of pastry rolled almost thin enough to read through, fried into brittle ribbons and showered with sugar. The rest of Italy calls them chiacchiere or cenci. They shatter at the first bite and land down the front of your coat, so eat them outside.