Scott Cawelti

Italy—land of Romans, the Renaissance, two thousands years of European history, and until recently, mostly slim citizens.  Oh yes, and slow food, meaning lingering three hour dinners.  La dolce vita—the good life. 

We just returned from two weeks in that ancient country, where we stayed in an old stone farmhouse (they call it a villa) and traveled through Tuscany, the wine country of central Italy.   That would be Pisa, Siena, Lucca, San Gimigniano, and of course Florence, where Michelangelo lived—200 years before the American revolution. 

Sharing expenses with five friends kept costs down, and cooking in the farmhouse made the trip downright reasonable, at least by European vacation standards.

Two of the nights we took Italian cooking classes from a real Italian chef, who had owned an Italian delicatessen for years before becoming a free-lance cooking instructor.

She taught us the old ways of Tuscan cooking—rolling out homemade pasta with egg and semolina flour, using that fresh pasta for lasagna and a main dish topped with meat sauce. 

We baked chicken pieces, made gnocchi (potato rolls) chicken liver pate, chocolate rolls and tiramisu.   No sugary drinks, very little butter.   Plenty of olive oil, sage, garlic, dashes of salt, and basil.  Everything tasted fresh and hugely full of flavor.

We were amazed that it was so easy, inexpensive—no high-end ingredients—and simple.  Our teacher was old school—she scorns fast food, and uses almost no butter or sugar.   Plenty of olive oil and garlic, though. 

But it wasn’t fast.  We started at 4:00 in the afternoon and didn’t eat until 7:00.   For centuries Italians cooked like this, and when they teach cooking to Americans, this is what they teach.  Now, as our chef lamented, all that’s changing.  Younger generations of Italians have learned the addictive joys of fat and sugar in the form of fast food.  Italian fast food, formerly an oxymoron, has become common everywhere.  Macdonald’s, Burger King, KFC, and their many Italian cousins, dot the landscape.  

Where there’s fast food, there are obese people, including Italians.   Not yet like America--over thirty percent of Americans are considered obese, and only about nine percent of Italians have reached that milestone, or more accurately, millstone.

America is first in percentage of obese citizens; Italians are 25^th.   But Italians are gaining, literally. 

Older Italians would love to ban fast food, I’m sure—including super-sized liquid sugar-loads that New York Mayor Bloomburg wants outlawed in his city.   Some would probably declare fast food a public health hazard and ban it forever.

Of course that won’t happen.   It’s too popular, too cheap, too convenient.  Vegetables and fruit can’t compete with salt, sugar, and fat.  More important, banning anything that people crave doesn’t work. 

Prohibition provides the evidence.  Alcohol didn’t disappear; it just went underground, more popular than ever, and in more creative forms.     

A better banning model is tobacco. It’s not outlawed, but it’s expensive, inconvenient, warned about in graphic terms, and hard to actually use in public places.   So its use has steadily declined, certainly compared to my smoking days, when everyone smoked everywhere, including classrooms.

But I digress.  Being in Italy reminded us to pay more attention to food, to conversation, to relaxing and lingering with friends well into the late evening.   We’re used to bolting down whatever’s available and waddling to the couch and TV.  That’s a disservice to all the joys that slow food provides, from loving preparation of several small courses to a perfect dessert.   

We can all do this, anytime.  And after visiting Italy, we do, at least until the wonder of it wears off. 

Then, of course, we’ll have to return to Italy. 

6-10-12

Italy—land of Romans, the Renaissance, two thousands years of European history, and until recently, slim citizens.  Oh yes, and slow food, meaning three hour dinners.  

We just returned from two weeks in that ancient country, where we stayed in an old stone farmhouse (they call it a villa) and traveled through Tuscany, the wine country of central Italy.  

Sharing expenses with five friends kept costs down, and cooking in the farmhouse made the trip downright reasonable, at least by European vacation standards.

Two of the nights we took Italian cooking classes from real Italian chefs, one of whom had owned an old-style Italian delicatessen for years before becoming a free-lance cooking instructor.

She taught us the old ways of cooking—rolling out our own homemade pasta with semolina flour, using that pasta for lasagna and eggplant parmesan.  We toiled over baked chicken pieces, bread salad, sauces, garnishes, and of course desserts, including chocolate rolls and tiramisu.   No pizza, no sugary drinks, very little butter.   Plenty of olive oil, sage, garlic, dashes of salt, and basil.    

We were amazed that it was so easy, inexpensive—no high-end ingredients—and simple.  These cooks are old school—they don’t believe in fast food, and they certainly don’t use much sugar or butter.  It wasn’t fast, though. 

We started at 4:00 in the afternoon and didn’t eat until 7:00.

Time was, all Italians cooked like this, and when they teach cooking to Americans, this is what they teach.   When all Italians prepared their food like this, obesity was as rare as no-hands talking in Italy.   

Now, as our culinary teacher lamented, all that’s changing.  Younger generations of Italians have learned the joys of fat and sugar in the form of fast food.  Italian fast food, formerly an oxymoron, has become common everywhere.  Macdonalds, Burger King, KFC, and their Italian cousins, dot the landscape.

So do obese Italians.  Not like we Americans, now the fattest people in the world, but they’re gaining, literally. 

Older Italians would love to fast food, I’m sure—including super-sized liquid sugar-loads that Mayor Bloomburg wants outlawed in NYC.   Declare fast food as a public health hazard and be done with it forever.

Of course that won’t happen.   It’s too popular, too cheap, too convenient.  Vegetables and fruit can’t compete with salt, sugar, and fat.