I’ve just arrived back in the States from a trip to France and Italy, and I can’t stop thinking about food. The beauty and simplicity of basic ingredients. The care that goes into combining them. And how travel opens our eyes and minds to new ways of being, living and eating.
What got me thinking about all of this was a story a restaurant owner shared with me during a late lunch stop on our way to Montepulciano. She spoke excellent English, in addition to French and Italian.
We were starving and grateful to have found a place where we could get a home-cooked meal. We sat at a small table next to one where the owner and her team were also sitting and sharing a meal together.
She asked how everything was, and in my broken Italian I said, “It’s very tasty, grazie.” After several minutes of chatting about how good our lasagne and potatoes were, the owner proudly exclaimed that “Italians can make anything” when they have “flour, salt, basil, tomatoes and olive oil.”
What has stayed with me is this. When simple ingredients are combined exceptionally well, you get a delicious, hearty dish. And when you mix in care, know-how and pride, you get a whole lot of love in a dish. Love and care that you can taste.
With each meal we’ve had since that moment, I’ve paid special attention to the ingredients.
As we made our way through the narrow streets of medieval hilltop villages, I found myself noticing the simple ingredients and regional specialties behind the sandwiches, pizza and, of course, pasta served in each town.
She welcomed us into her restaurant and kitchen that afternoon, and by the end of the meal, it felt like we were her guests. As we walked out the door, I told her how lovely it was to meet her and wished her a “Buona Giornata.”
Basic ingredients are the backbone of so many dishes in Italy. I’ve loved the simplicity. And all of the flavor.
One day for lunch in Monticchiello, I started with a bowl of fresh gazpacho followed by plain pici pasta. I could taste the salt water it was boiled in with every bite. It was the best bowl of pasta I’ve had in my entire 50 years. Something I don’t say lightly.
Another day for lunch in Montepulciano, I enjoyed an L’Arancino sandwich. Fresh flatbread out of the oven, a layer of tomato pesto, fresh yellow tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, arugula and a pile of local prosciutto, capped with another slice of bread. Simple and full of flavor.
When I travel, I look for the purest and freshest ingredients wherever I go. Fresh-made bread. Fresh olives picked from the grove. Fresh-picked herbs. Local meats and cheeses. Regional specialties that represent the best of the region.
All across Tuscany, I saw rosemary, oregano and basil growing by doorsteps, ready to be picked whenever someone was cooking. At the B&B just outside Montepulciano where we stayed, rosemary bushes were growing all over the property. Some were bigger than most boxwoods in the U.S.
I love rosemary. I found myself picking a sprig here and there, inhaling its wonderful scent and savoring the moment.
One morning, the woman who ran the B&B told me she picked fresh herbs from the garden when preparing the daily menus. I loved that. The herbs weren’t simply there to make the property beautiful. They were part of the landscape, part of the cooking, and part of everyday life.
Travel reminds me that the spaces we create can do more than look beautiful. They can become part of how we live.
It was a reminder that I can create spaces of my own that do more than look beautiful. They can invite me to cook, engage my senses, and bring small pleasures into my everyday routines.
Now that I’m back in the States, I intend to plant my very own rosemary bush (or two). I’ll be using this photo as inspiration.