amore

Hi Voltaire! Seems you are having the time of your life in Italy! Aside from arts and history, looking forward to your posts on....Italian cuisine. -Gleo Guerra, November 15, 2007

Eccolo! Renaissance Italy, like the Philippines up to the time of the ilustrados (some would say up to now), consisted of warring cities or regions, each having an independent government and nurturing a unique culture. The Republic of Venice ruled the Adriatic Sea in the North, for example, while the Pope exercised temporal power from Rome over the Papal States in the Center, beside the Republic of Florence. As a consequence of this diversity, as well as the availability of produce in local markets, different regions developed unique culinary traditions.

Since, as in France, food is eight to ten times more expensive in Italy compared to ours in Manila, my breakfast and lunch usually consisted of Sky Flakes and a large bottle of water, which I would refill in restaurants or public water fountains. In Florence, for that extra boost of energy, I indulged in affordable, creamy gelato, but only when it was produzione propria (homemade) as this is reputedly the best ice cream in the world (in Paris, I got my daily calcium from Berthillon, which is vying for the same title). Apparently, the secret to delicious ice cream and good food in general is the use of fresh, natural ingredients that are available locally: as French chef Alain Ducasse said, "In my kitchens, a dish always begins with a product, never the other way around."

Each night, having explored the museums and historical sites, I allowed myself a hearty dinner in a restaurant recommended by the locals. In Firenze, the typical meal begins with an appetizer, like salami or crostini misti. The first course (primo) could be ribollita soup or spaghetti al pomodoro; this is followed by the main course (secondo) which could be chicken, veal or beef and is accompanied by a side dish (a contorno), like fagioli. One enjoys all this food with Chianti wine from the countryside; the meal ends with dessert like tiramisù and sweet lemoncello.

I had a memorable supper in Il Latini, a traditional Tuscan trattoria near Santa Maria Novella, where just as I bit into a slice of involtini- rolled veal stuffed with vegetables and stewed in its own juice- I found myself looking across the communal table into the most beautiful gray eyes.

Buona sera.

It was the beginning of a ritual that would last throughout the three-hour meal. Look. Madrid is the fire of Pinatubo and Mayon. Talk. Paris is the air of Banawe and Sagada. Touch. Florence is the earth of Nueva Ecija and Bulacan.

In the land of the loving, I surrendered to my senses.