Art of Eating Fresh
Genuino, Semplice, Autentico. You probably didn’t need to give it much thought before you figured out the meanings of those words. Likewise, you won’t need to study Italian cooking in depth before you understand that the concepts of genuineness, simplicity and authenticity are at its very heart.
In Italy, food is first and foremost a matter of good ingredients. Fresh greens that crunch under the knife, succulent red tomatoes that offer the perfume of summer (next time you’re around a farm-fresh tomato in season, raise it up to your nose. That rich fruity smell promises real tomato taste – tomatoes that aren’t redolent are sorely lacking in flavor. Try this test with your average supermarket tomato and you’ll know what I mean), sharp cheeses that curl your tongue and milky fresh cheeses straight from the dairy.
Your average Italian knows good food because it is ingrained in the culture. Fresh foods in season cycle through the kitchen. Locally grown produce often dictates the menu. Artisan-crafted cheeses heighten the flavors of pasta and pizza. Sausages made by the local butcher or trout caught from a nearby stream might grace the family table. When you grow up surrounded by food that is “genuino,” it’s hard to stomach mass-produced, highly processed food. Your mouth balks at chemical flavor enhancers and fillers. You crave the real.
Fresh-grown foods aren’t simply more flavorful – they look different. When I go back to Italy, I’m always surprised at how intense the colors of the food are. Red tomatoes are vermilion. Basil is a deep summer green. Fresh mozzarella glows white as a pale moon. I’ve often wondered if it’s any coincidence that these are the colors of the Italian flag. But I could just as easily wax over the gorgeous cadmium of the yellow peppers or the rich purple of the eggplants. Real food is bursting with natural color. Cultivated with care, kissed by the sun, it doesn’t need artificial colors to heighten its appearance.
