Foodie Friday: What I learned in Italy

Italy in February of 2000, was the first trip to Europe that Sweet Bear and I did together. A week in Rome, and a week in Florence. I hadn't been to Europe in almost a decade, he had been a couple of times for a conferences and research. 

Traveling with Sweet Bear I learned so much, and there is so much to learn in Italy. 

I remember riding the train into Rome from the airport at Fiumicino that first morning, seeing small gardens squeezed into every available space, tomatoes growing in containers on sunny balconies. Italian cooking thrives on fresh, local and seasonal. The closer to the source the better. Thinking back I knew this from sitting in the dirt in my grandmother's garden eating green beans fresh from the plant, they have a furry texture that goes away within minutes of being picked. After time and distance and they are never the same.  A tomato still warm from the sunshine that ripened it, has an intensity of flavor that it will not have once it has left the sun.  Italians would sooner not eat something, than to eat something that is out of season and shipped in from far away. And far away, is defined very narrowly. Kind of like the Appalachian "you are not from around here are you?" 

Italians will never rush you in a restaurant, bar or cafe. There is no rush to turn the table over. At times, especially for an American, the service can become frustratingly slow. The Italians would urge you to slow down, relax, there is seldom a reason to rush away. I remember my father at Red Lobster, pulling out his credit card as soon as the main course was served, asking for the bill, so he could leave as soon as he was finished, to rush home and - and spend the afternoon playing solitaire on the computer in his office. Sit, linger, observe, talk, read, savor the time. 

In Florence I learned about restaurant service. Being a waiter is a dignified and reasonably paid profession in Italy, not something you do to get by, something you can do for a lifetime. The waiters knew the menu, and what was best that day (fresh, local, and in season.) The service added a dignity to the experience. I think back to a restaurant named  Antico Forno, the Ancient Oven, we went twice, the food was amazing and this foreigner with very basic Italian was made to feel so welcome by the staff. 

We went into the Central Market in Florence, it was a short walk from the hotel we were staying in overlooking the Medici Chapel. Three memories stand out there. 

A poultry vendor, I was admiring the chicken and asked if I could take a photograph. He encouraged me to do so.  I remarked about the heads still being on the birds, and he said that is so you can look them in the eye and tell how fresh they are. He went on to explain that he had looked over those birds from the day they hatched, through their life, and on to this morning. His repeat customers would look at the eyes and tell him what time that morning the chickens had been dispatched.   

I was looking for a bottle of Limoncello.  One vendor had a nice selection, as I was trying to decipher the differences in them and the lady who owned the stall came over to help.  She was about 5 feet tall, wearing a mink coat that was about 4 1/2 feet tall, she had a voice cultivated by smoking since she was about 12, at least 60 years before.  She summoned a tray of shot glasses and we started sampling Limoncellos, one after another in mid morning.  After half a dozen shots I made a choice, and then we sampled a couple of olive oils, and I bought the best bottle of olive oil I have ever tasted. She explained that she knew, or was related to all of the producers, that she selected what she would sell, only the best. I will always remember her. 

The last one was a refrigerated case, filled with gelatinous fibrous tentacles, I was thinking it was some kind of exotic seafood. Reading the sign, and talking with the vendor, it was bovine nerves.  I have no idea what you do with them, but enough people in Florence did for there to be a vendor who specialized in them. 

I could go on, but I would sooner go back and learn even more.