As I sat indulging in homemade Minestrone soup yesterday evening, slowly allowing my senses to fully experience the flavours, I could not help being amazed: I created this? Actually, it had everything to do with Italy. I really had no hand in it.
Before I left home, a friend who comes from Algeria and is now studying in Montreal said to me: "You’re so lucky to be going to Rome. You get to eat Italian food! I miss the flavours of the Mediterranean..."
I understand what she means. The last time I was in Rome was seventeen years ago, and I have never forgotten the flavour of the fresh tomato and basil combination in a pizza margherita. Food just tastes better here. The flavours are more intense. Probably because most of the food one buys in Rome is fresh.
The next time you are at the grocery store, take a good look at the fruit and vegetables you buy. Where are they from? Most of our food is imported. This, of course, is not surprising when Canadian winters last approximately half the year. We don’t have the time or weather to grow much of anything.
I found the recipe for my Minestrone soup online from Ricardo.com. I omitted the bay leaf (for the practical reason that none could be found), and the celery. I used shallots in lieu of a plain, yellow onion. I of course bought the vegetables at a local fruitteria. The shopkeeper even gave me fresh basil for free. I also put real parmigiano reggiano on the table, as a garnish. None of that pre-shredded parmesan, of course.
Shopping for food in Rome is fun. Not to mention an excellent way of practicing one’s Italian. The vendors are very friendly and most will speak to you in Italian, granting you their patience and meeting you half-way to make sure you understand each-other.
In Canada, shopping for food is not something most people enjoy doing; rather it is generally considered a dull and often tiring chore. Most people go grocery shopping once a week. We plan our meals in advance and fit a trip to the supermarket in the slot of time we have set aside in our rushed and busy lives. Some people even prefer ordering fast food to cooking at home, something I am sure most Italians would find unbelievable. I myself am only very rarely part of the “order at home” set, but I do have a large freezer where I store meat I buy on sale. I also pre-plan my meals.
In Rome, shopping for food is quite a different experience. The supermarkets here are, by all definitions, tiny. They are no bigger than our convenience stores. In preparation for dinner, one does not purchase food in an oversized, “we-have-everything concept,” chain superstore. To shop for one meal in Rome, I need to make several stops. And I will walk to each of them.
For example, in preparation for my minestrone dinner, I walked to the “supermarket” (which has a grand total of 2 ½ aisles) for canned beans and pancetta (which, incidentally, I could also have bought at the local cured meats shop). I then walked to the fruitteria, where I bought green beans, carrots, tomatoes, garlic and fresh basil. After that, I walked back to the supermarket, where I bought dried oregano (because the fruitteria didn’t have any that was fresh). Finally, I went to the Casa di Pane (House of Bread) for a homemade Italian loaf.
The result? The most delicious minestrone I have ever eaten, made with fresh ingredients I had carefully picked out that very afternoon. The carrots tasted very much like carrots, as did the green beans, and the fragrant basil, of course. And the tomatoes ... well, no words can do justice to their divine flavour. This is Italy, after all.
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