A Spoonful of Sugar

So why Italy?

Why not? What on earth is there not to love about Italy and Italian food? I've had two all-too-brief holidays there—Rome and Venice—and adored every moment of them and indeed, every bite of food. The most memorable thing, or rather, sensation, I encountered was that of passion. It was absolutely palpable everywhere we went. And pride, too.

There was so much passion poured into the food we ate—whether it was at a trattoria, osteria, cafe, or even walking through the Rialto Market—that it made me love and appreciate the cuisine even more than I already did. I'm sure that there are terrible restaurants in Italy and dreadful home cooks, too, but I've yet to encounter any. The trouble seems to begin when you remove Italian cusine from the beautiful produce that it so relies upon.

The slightly longer answer is because I want to learn more about Italian regional cookery. Everyone knows that there's a big north/south divide in culinary terms—butter/olive oil, lentils/tomatoes, risotto/pasta—but I want to know more. I was also quite embarrassed to look at a map of Italy and find that I'd only heard of a handful of regions out of the current total of twenty. (Although, this isn't something that I should be overly upset at.. Would I criticise an Italian for not knowing all the regions—or counties—of Scotland?)

So, how will this work?

Well, I did plan to start my journey in Piedmont, work my way through Valle d'Aosta, Lombardy and then zig-zag my way down through the rest of the boot. There would have been beautifully illustrated essays talking about the history of the region, how that related to its food and maybe an examination of how the modern cuisine compares to the classical. However, that's far too logical and disciplined for me. I much prefer to pick and choose dishes based on what I feel like eating that day (or week, if I'm in meal-planning mode) or what sort of technique I want to try out. Frankly, I'm a bit of a magpie.

There's another problem with starting off in Piedmont. I can't find any white truffles. Black summer truffles? No problem! White? I might as well be asking for Moon cheese. (I'm awfully anxious about truffles, by the way. I've never had them, and I'm worried that I'll turn out to be one of the 25% of women who simply cannot taste them. I do wish I could remember the source of that statistic...) As truffle is the big thing in Piedmontese cuisine, I'll be avoiding any major exploration of the region until I can lay my hands on some.

I still plan to write the occasional essay about regions, particularly exciting—or new to me—foodstuffs, but it will be spontaneous. Much the best way, I think.

So, led by my belly, I'll be officially beginning my gastronomic tour of Italy in Venice with some gorgeous tuna. Who knows where I'll go from there!

I hope that you'll enjoy reading my exploits!