I have not had an immersive relationship with Italian food. I don’t eat much flour or wheat, which translates to an unusual life without much pasta or pizza. I have enjoyed all the cheese, meat and vegetable dishes that have come my way. But on this trip, I was determined to do justice to one of the best-loved and diverse cuisines in the world. Plus, Fredric adores all the diverse food from the different regions of this country. I have decided I will completely drop my dietary guard and dive deep into this gourmand adventure.
In Rome, silky mozzarella oozes from zucchini flowers, tomatoes, peas and artichokes. Anchovies giggle in puntarelle, which are chicory heads with tender green stems and leaves like dandelions. I quite fancy puntarelle. Slow-cooked beef, porchetta flavoured with the most robust pepe (pepper), carbonara with a medley of hard cheese and crispy bacon, octopus in a bewildering combination of leaves and sauces, street food of focaccia and panini sandwiches layered with fresh ham and herb-filled cheese- I am surprised at its efficacy in shutting up even my resilient Indian taste buds.
However, the star of the show for me is the wild porcini mushroom. I eat it with my eyes closed. The whole earth in a mouthful. Meaty and nutty. Then we drive to Toscana along the Mediterranean, powered by platefuls of seafood from simple sea breeze-whipped ristorantes. In Italy, a meal is a relaxed, unhurried time: antipasti, followed by primi and secondi (with contorini), dolce and a shot of strong espresso served with the dolce.
In Toscana, food is a treat. Panzanella and ribollita make historically magical transformations with old bread and there are a million types of pecorino and liver pates. Game meat finds its way into everything, from pasta to salami. We had delicious cinghiale in San Gimignano. I just love the hot, hearty soup of seasonal veggies, thickened with old bread, and basil, of course- Pappa al pomodoro. Truffles are much less aspirational here and add their musky fragrance to the rich flavours.
And gelati, gelati, gelati. Rainbow hued. Almost as bright and welcoming as the smile of the swag filled-Italian, stuffing an extra scoop into my hazelnut-encrusted cone, dismissing, with style, all my mild protests. But the voice of the Italians of all regions becomes one with a single word. That word is tiramisu.
Anupamaa Dayal
This fashion designer is about happy clothes and happy homes for happy women