When I鈥檓 in Italy, I generally eat only Italian food. I doubt there鈥檚 another country in Europe (except France) that could hold my palate鈥檚 interest so easily.
Italians are passionate about food. Cuisine is like a religion 鈥� and it鈥檚 the quality of the ingredients that鈥檚 most sacred. They tell me French cuisine is the art of making a fine sauce to cover the taste of mediocre ingredients. In Italy, they say, 鈥淟a miglior cucina comincia dal mercato鈥� (The best cuisine starts from the market.) When a chef chats with diners, ingredients are often the topic of conversation (which can become an animated debate): 鈥淎rugula is not yet in season. But Signora Maria has more sun in her backyard and her chickens give her a marvellous fertilizer.鈥�
Some dishes are available only during a short window of time, when ingredients are at their peak. For instance, vignarola is a stew consisting of artichokes, peas and fava beans. But chefs make it for only a few weeks each spring during a perfect storm of seasonality, when everything is bursting with flavour. One year, an early spring brought mass confusion in Rome, as oldtimers couldn鈥檛 remember ever seeing vignarola on the menu before Easter.
Finding the right restaurant is key to eating well in Italy. I appreciate personality-driven restaurants, run by people enthusiastic about sharing their love of good cooking, and characteristic mom-and-pop places serving family recipes. Signs of a good restaurant include a low-rent location, lots of locals and a small, handwritten menu in one language. The menu is small because they鈥檙e selling everything they鈥檙e cooking, it鈥檚 handwritten because it鈥檚 shaped by what鈥檚 fresh today in the market and it鈥檚 in one language because they cater to locals rather than tourists.
As you travel throughout Italy, you鈥檒l see different types of eateries. Generally speaking, a ristorante is more formal and upscale while a trattoria is usually a casual, family-owned place serving home-cooked meals. While 鈥渙steria鈥� used to mean a humble, rustic, good-value eatery, now it is likely to be trendy and pricey (but still good quality). To go gourmet and not go broke, I like a small, classy enoteca. These wine bars serve good, reasonably priced wine by the glass and pride themselves on simple menus featuring quality local and seasonal ingredients, well-cooked and economical.
For a fast and cheap lunch, I look for the Italian variation on the corner deli: either a rosticceria, specializing in roasted meats and antipasti, or a tavola calda (hot table) bar 鈥� essentially a cafeteria featuring a buffet of meat and vegetables. Another budget option is to drop by an 鈥渁limentari鈥� (neighbourhood grocery) or salumeria (delicatessen) to pick up some cold cuts, cheeses and other supplies for a picnic.
At dinner, rather than bog down on an expensive secondi (second course, usually meat or fish), I order top-end on the antipasti (starter) and primi piatti (first course) list. By doing that, I usually end up with the freshest meats and cheeses and the chef鈥檚 favourite pasta dish of the day.
For more of an indulgence, I like to put myself in the hands of the chef. Either I鈥檒l find out what they鈥檙e eager to serve, or I鈥檒l simply say, 鈥淢i faccia felice鈥� (make me happy), and set a price limit. In fact, that鈥檚 one of the reasons I like eating in a tiny restaurant 鈥� because you have contact with the chef. It鈥檚 like talking to your masseuse as she works.
Italians tend to linger over each course, and dinner is the evening鈥檚 entertainment. When you enjoy a full-blown Italian dinner, you don鈥檛 get out until midnight 鈥� a three-hour meal is common. And when you leave, the table is a mess, with plenty of evidence of high-calorie and firewater fun. Waiters provide lots of drinks that seem designed to keep you from leaving.
A couple of years ago, I sat down at my favourite place in Verona, Enoteca Can Grande, with my friend and guide, Franklin. We let the chef, Giuliano, bring us whatever he wanted. Just after the antipasti arrived, Franklin鈥檚 wife phoned him and said: 鈥淒on鈥檛 eat too much cheese or dessert.鈥� Franklin, who鈥檚 not thin, surveyed our table and considered enjoying with anything less than abandon the enticing parade of food that had just begun. Sighing, he said, 鈥淢any people live their entire lives and they do not have this experience.鈥�
鈥淭hat鈥檚 a pity,鈥� I said.
鈥淵es,鈥� Franklin said. 鈥淚t鈥檚 like a man being born and being surrounded by beautiful women, and never making the love.鈥�
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Rick Steves writes European travel guidebooks and hosts a travel shows on KCTS Seattle. Email him at [email protected].
