Opening post

When I made up my mind about starting a new blog, written in english, one aspect was clear: it shouldn't be personal in any way. It would be strictly about food, nothing else.

But then I arrived in Italy. And all of a sudden it became clear: here, food is the essence of everything personal. I hate to generalize, so I won't start by making statements on Italians and their way of life, six days after stepping in Italy for the first time in my life. Instead, let me tell you about the people who have crossed my way ever since I reached the Piedmont:

A few days before my departure, my mother showed me a website by means of which people from all corners of Earth would offer to host travellers (and travellers would look for accomodation). I wasn't hoping to find anyone in Bra, but took a look, anyway. And there, among a few students like me, we found Daniele. (We = me and my boyfriend. We're here together and you'll read about him every now and then.)

Daniele had a funny picture and described himself as "prodottore di vino", who lived in campagna and had as a motto the sentence "don't worry, be happy". The profile said a lot of other things, all in Italian (except the motto), which gave us a good feeling right away. We sent him a message and the positive reply came quickly. So quickly that made me a bit suspicious. And that lasted for a while, specially when I was driving around the little roads surrounding Bra and couldn't find the address. At night. When we finally reached Daniele by phone, he started showing that my suspicions were nonsense.

To sum it up: he picked us up in the middle of the road; gave us a room twice as big as our current apartment; showed us the surroundings; introduced us to his friends (and consequently to our next-perfect-house-in-campagnia-surrounded-by-green); gave us his excellent wine and to top it up his mother invited us for pranzo. Pranzo can be translated as lunch. But I'd never lunched like that anywhere else in the world. Not on a regular day. To start, prosciutto, salame and copa, washed down with Pallazzo Rosso Rosé. Secondi: home made ravioli, stuffed with ricotta and spinach and served with sage and olive oil. Terzi: meat cooked in brodo, with Dijon mayonnaise, tomato sauce and a home made (is this word starting to become redundant?) marmellade obtained from grape must, cooked for 10 hours, with nocciola and absolutely no sugar. Still, deliciously sweet and thick like a sugar rich confiture. At this stage, we were sharing two bottles of Nebbiolo and Barbero d'Alba, both produced by that very same family.

Here in Bra, whenever we enter any kind of establishment, it's clear that there's another family working together. Our host Daniele, for instance, works with his father, mother, sister and brother in law. And everyone gets along perfectly well. On the market accross our street, every stand belongs to a family, or a few of them. There you can find some of the best cheeses in the world, as well as a variety of best quality traditional piedmontese produce. My point is: here, food is highly personal. With scarce exceptions, fine dining restaurants here replicate the kitchen of mammas and nonnas. Writing about my experience in the region and not taking it personally would mean cutting off the best bits.

After realizing all that in loco, I came accross a few gastronomy magazines and blogs reporting a recent crisis occurring in Italy: several Michelin starred restaurants around the country have closed lately. According to some chefs' point of view, that happens due to the fact that the style of restaurant which nowadays pleases the guide is opposite to the kind of place that italians look for when going out to eat. Most italian people seek for warm service, good food made well and some kind of regard for tradition, rather than an "experience" with unknown ingredients, textures never seen before and such peculiarities.

I'm not taking sides here, once I see no reason to believe that one kitchen has to prevail. There is enough space for both tradition and innovation, and I am happy eating good food whatever the context is. However, it is undeniable that anyone cooking/eating/writing about food should have more than a clue about where modern gastronomy came from. Knowing the fundamentals and learning about the past fills the present with sense and meaning.

Consider this post a statement of principles. Here's where I should depart from.