Home from Rome

Thoughts on Italian tables

We flew back yesterday to Paris after a triumphant, two-week trip to Italy. My mother impressed us all – and indeed herself – by averaging over 7 kilometres a day on foot (and more than one day over 10), much of which was up and down steep hills. Go Mum!

It was a confidence-building, bonding, happy, and inspiring trip. This is me, my mother, and my brother with the breathtaking view from Pienza behind us. And here’s mama trekking through Rome.

Miraculously, I didn’t work the entire time we were away, apart from sending you that short missive last Thursday. This is unheard of for me and I’m ashamed to admit it, because taking breaks is crucial if you want to be of any use in this world. Despite my always defending this fact, I’m not so good at walking my own talk when it comes to taking time out. That’s perhaps more of a cultural hurdle than one based on personality, but those engrained tendencies can be the hardest to break free of. Seeing how much good the Italian getaway has done me, I’m determined to get better at rest. Overworking never means you get more done. It just means you wear yourself down to dullness and eventually burn out.

How about you? Do you give yourself the downtime you need and deserve?

View from Agriturismo Il Favaio in Umbria

Although I didn’t work during the holiday, I was obviously taking in observations. Here are some things about Italy that struck me:

· There is a palpable respect for and inclusion of the elderly and children in that country. I noticed this in restaurants from the way patrons greeted people young and old, and from how engaged grandparents and children were at the table. Even in the street and on trains and so on, people constantly made room for my mother, and were helpful, accommodating, and kind. In a world where being overlooked and isolated is a chronic distress for so many, this was heartening to witness.

· At the excellent agriturismo we stayed at in Umbria, our hosts were seriously devoted to the quality of their food, and by that I don’t mean in terms of culinary flourish. I’m talking about raw ingredients. They grow their own wheat, for example, using an ancient variety which Roberto, the farmer, explained has a very different level and quality of gluten from today’s industrial varieties. If so much as a pinch of flour gets into a sauce Peter eats, he will be sick for days because of the gluten. Well, he decided to tempt fate by eating a piece of Roberto’s wife Rebecca’s bread, made from their wheat, and guess what? Yup, nothing happened.

This insight, along with a lengthy description from Roberto about what goes on with modern meat production, hit me broadside. I’ve been aware all my life that good food starts not in the kitchen but in the ground, but for some reason the importance of good ingredients was sounding louder in my ears than ever on this trip. Italian cuisine gets the message across better than most because of its simplicity. A plate of steamed beet greens or a piece of grilled fish with olive oil and salt have nothing to hide behind: the quality or lack thereof is immediately apparent. This is not necessarily the case with, say, French cuisine, which has a vast arsenal of elaborate techniques that can disguise or distract from inferior ingredients.

Loot brought back from Umbria, including pasta made from the wheat of our host Roberto. Peter is going to try it, too, to see what happens…

“Audacious simplicity” is how I want to describe the Italian approach to food, although their essential way of eating has always come more from scarcity and necessity, not daring. Still, I like the term and shall aspire to it, especially in the kitchen.

· It had been many years since I travelled to Italy, and I’d forgotten how different the table culture is from that in France. More frenetic, for one thing. There’s no time to start with a leisurely apéritif because waiters want you to order food straight away. Dishes arrive when they’re ready, willy-nilly, instead everyone’s order landing at once. Plates get passed and shared, usually resulting in a bit of mess. And as soon as someone’s plate is empty, it’s whisked away, sometimes almost before they’ve had a chance to set their fork down. This leaves anyone still eating to finish on their own. I can’t say I love that custom.

· Despite the general impression that Italians are more laidback than the French, and they are, you nonetheless see a lot more white tablecloths and cloth napkins in Italy, including in modest family restaurants. Also, the Italians still change your cutlery between courses, unlike the French these days, who will go so far as to rip it out of your hands, however covered in sauce it might be, and throw it back down on the table for you to use again. (I’m not talking about starred restaurants; I mean in your average bistro.) Now that Peter and I are onto this new and horrible trend in Paris, we’ve learned to ask for fresh cutlery, which isn’t always provided graciously.

· Food is less expensive in Italy than it is in France.

· House wines in Italian restaurants are cheap and actually good.

My friend Malcolm Jolley’s Wine Box tells me Calabrian rosé is trending. No wonder!

· Food in Italy remains more devoutly regional than in France, with less variety and less invention at the mid-range level. That’s not a criticism, just an observation. There’s something to be said for it, too.

· After two weeks of eating in restaurants in Italy, I feel completely normal and healthy, whereas after just two days of eating in restaurants in France (or North America), I’m desperate for my own cooking.

“You sound like you’re done with France,” my brother said to me more than once during our trip. I can’t imagine ever being done with France, but it’s true that I do get a craving for ways of living that seem to be fading out here. It makes me want to run around France turning stones to try and find them, because if there’s one thing I know to be true, it’s that culture – any culture – roots like a Banyan tree. You can hack away at the top of it all you want, but its resilience, deep down, will always triumph.

I’m heading to Provence next week for my art of the table retreat at Château de la Gonette, and I can’t wait. This Italy trip, along with a book I’ve been reading by Perla Servan-Schreiber about cooking, food, and eating, have me totally pumped on kitchen and table topics. The week in Provence is going to be an absolute binge. I’ll tell you all about it when the time comes.

Until soon ~

Laura xo

Leaving Assisi, onwards to Rome, then home.