Delivering Love

There is something very magical about eating in Italy. There is a devil may care attitude to the whole affair that in my reasonable,but still limited, travel experience is second to none .

While most of the world is obsessed with aesthetics , expensive ‘in’ decor and trends in presentation and ingredients, Italy somehow determines to remain true to itself at all costs . Good, local food, cooked fresh and cooked well and served the way many a Nona has delivered it over the centuries .

If you’ve never been to Italy the positioning of restaurants in terms of quality and authenticity is different to other places . Those beautiful restaurants in popular places are often created for the touring masses and lack any kind of the real Italia. If you want the authentic Italian experience you have to go where you may assume any kind of quality could not possibly reside .

I am always delighted by the ability of Italians to create the most wonderful of restaurants in the most unassuming places . Never shirk the possibility that the dingy side street with little else happening other than some kind of fairy lit gazebo , may house the most wonderful of little gems. Italians don’t care about the street , they care about the food , their little slice of heaven , that legendary Italiano confidence assuring them that people WILL come to them . Very often , they are right .

Picture this , a bustling city , lit up from every angle , modern apartments sitting side by side with centuries old monuments , beautiful stores sharing corners with tobacconists, traffic chaos everywhere. As you are about to cross a road you notice the afore mentioned fairy lit tent. Further investigation reveals the wonders inside the tent and beyond . Aside from the romantically lit tables in the outside pavilion there is a hint of the cavernous wonders beyond .

Any Italian restaurant worth its carne will have very , VERY few seats inside in a manner the rest of the world assumes to be the norm . It will have seats where there is no space for seats , there will be tables on cobble stones , in courtyards , indeed any space that may be commandeered as remotely suitable to fire a plate of their finest cuisine in front of a paying customer. The seats will not match , the tables will wobble and there is more than an outside chance that the waiter will be frustrated with you about something. However, with any luck , you are being magically seduced by sights and smells that prevent you from caring a jot.

The walls may well be many hundreds of years old , bedecked in vines, azalea plants , ancient tiles and pictures containing once famous faces who graced the establishment with their custom once upon a time . Blazing hot patio heaters add the type of warmth that has you feeling nostalgic for something you don’t quite understand , as does the inevitable fountain as it trickles quietly in the background . If Volare doesn’t play at one point in the evening are you even eating in Italy ? Brightly coloured lanterns hang in zig zags above your head and make you feel like you are part of a grown up birthday celebration. It is a joyful explosion for the senses and the soul .

Then there is the food.

Many years ago my husband and I visited a city in northern Italy on a reasonably frequent basis . Him for work , me as the tag along . It was a city known for its industry , beaches and wine , not necessarily in that order . Pescara is a bustling place with miles of beaches and about the same in restaurants . However we were reliably informed to visit a little place (as ever in no prominent position and impossible to find unless you were either very lucky or in the know) . Taverna 58 . It was then and is to this day , the best food I have ever eaten .

These were the days where having a mini computer in your hand in the form of a phone, well it was sci-fi. Even a phone in your hand was less than the norm . There was no google translate and menus written in complex Italian were exactly that . Complex . The only way to eat was to do so at the mercy of your waiter .

There is something very liberating in having food presented to you without having the blindest idea what is coming . So , we found ourselves eating steak tartare prepared at the table , stunning pasta dishes and a salad that is frankly the bench mark for those who claim salad is boring . It is not , was not and I can taste it still , I even make an imitation version which gets me huge plaudits but is far from the wonders of the real thing . Wine was delivered without asking and deserts came on a trolley so you could indeed eat with your eyes . The experience was phenomenal. Somehow the tacky Tuscan decor seemed wildly appropriate. The shouting matches between proprietor and waiting staff in many ways simply in keeping with the ambiance and the hoopla with every course as it was presented transportive in its magic . This was a lesson in how eating is much , much more than merely fuelling your body .

It was an experience that alerted every sense . The cacophony of noise, smells and wondrous sights made this a place , an experience that lives long in the memory. The food arrived when it arrived. Speed was not the aim of the game , and there was much to entertain while you waited . It was not inappropriate to watch a neighbouring diners fish being filleted it was seen as a compliment . The time between courses allowing for social discourse and of course the viewing in the flesh of other menu items yet to be savoured as they landed on the tables of fellow diners .

After many years of enjoying Italian restaurants I am certain that the proprietors have much more than making money in mind . For me their little slice of culinary heaven is an extension of their self . It is a place to demonstrate their ability to feed others , every Italian’s dream let’s face it . It is somewhere to socialise , to make friends , to argue, brag and admire the bella/bello clientele. Never be surprised when the owner casually disregards the requests for the “Conto” from diners eager to pay and go .. if the owner is in the middle of regaling you with a story about his first cousin, twice removed, and his prowess for spotting amazing vinos then nothing will stop him .

As for timing , do not show up at 5:30pm looking for your tea . In Italy this is the time for a delicate pastry and a espresso . It is not time for the main meal . Back to the whole “not in any hurry thing”. Why would you gobble your meal in 15 minutes when you can wait till 8pm and eat it leisurely with copious amounts of wine and time to chat . The only meal Italians eat in any hurry is breakfast and then simply because they barely eat breakfast at all . Less that they are hurried and more that there is so little to consume (a small pastry or the like) that it’s over in a flash . Lunch is generally a light pasta or a delicious bread based cheese and ham delight , all is saved for the evening meal . When work is done , the streets are quiet(er) and there is space to embrace the joy of food .

Me , personally , I love to eat late at night . I find that sitting down to food after all the stress and chores of the day are over is the perfect way to relax . How much better is it, however , when such relaxing is in the midst of the bustle of a charming little nook that is someone’s pride and joy ? Even when alone , eating in Italy is never a lonely affair . There is joy in the engagement of others. There is no pity for the lone diner , rather special care and attention that aids you in forgetting that you are companionless. So too , of course , does the wine . Italy is a social country that draws you in regardless of your position. Somehow the ‘ciao bella’s’ seem affectionate and not at all creepy , in a way that anywhere else may make you feel wildly uncomfortable. It is the unwavering attention to people that allows you to forgive and even embrace that which the feminist in you may otherwise object. Or maybe it is the ancient surroundings that make you forget the need to be militantly PC and instead allow yourself to enjoy the appreciation of some little Italian geezer who finds you beautiful . Either way the magic has its effect.

And so , for me, the scene from an Italian restaurant is so much more than a bottle of white and a bottle of red (let’s face it no self respecting Italian wants a white wine unless a fish is involved ) . It is a feast for the soul . It is a way to feel part of something while you nurture far beyond the simple hunger requirements of your body . Italy is full of amazing sights and wonders . History oozes from every part of every place you go and it is impossible not to be enraptured by it’s magnificence. For me , though ,the greatest part of any trip to Bella Italia is not simply ‘the food’ , it’s the whole restaurant experience .

She never disappoints me.