I made the decision to live in a small and isolated village, the city gal that I am. This was a year for self reflection, observation and, in some part, solitude. No external distractions or unnecessary noise. This was also the year of travel, exposure and exploration. With the sometimes painful help of the Italian rail system I covered as much ground as possible on.
I think its called having the best of both worlds.
Eating the bread of others
I was exposed to Italy and Europe through bread; every place I visited became a part of me through the local starch. There was Parma bread (see above), the lovechild of plasterboard and a basketball. Unsalted Tuscan bread and the Sicilian pane di Lentini also come to mind. The latter was served hot out of a wood burning oven, soaked in olive oil, oregano, crushed chili flakes and salt, capturing elation with through mastication.
Focaccia, schiacciata, farinata, Swedish rye bread, French baguette, Surinaam Roti, Ethiopian Injera, Dutch sourdough and Cretan rusk bread are only a smidgen of the carbohydrates I had the pleasure of eating.
Many meals were shared standing around a kitchen table, chopping, cooking, attempting and snacking. Being a part of a food community was education and inspiration, opening up possibilities for future collaborations.
Food to the point of extreme.
I have a feeling an adjustment period to the real world might be in place.
I guess I am going to have to master the art of the Sicilian ricotta filled fried tubes if I am to experience a canolo in the near future. Who knows, this may end up being a new revolution. The world needs to know what its missing.