The old country

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When I lived in Philadelphia, I used to think that it was pretty nifty that I lived in an aunthentic colonial townhouse on Quince Street, original fireplace and wooden floors intact.  Located on a cobblestone alleyway, I would walk home and think ‘oh, what history lines these streets!’  About five minutes into Lucca, though, I passed a large stone building with a cornerstone that read 1432.  Um, yeah.  I think Delaware Indians were still pitching teepees on Quince Street in 1432.  Anyway, Lucca is beautiful!  There’s really no other word to describe the city.  The heart of Lucca is completely surrounded by intact brick walls that were erected around 1600 — the whole way around (there’s an elevated path on the inside) is about 2 miles or so. 

To get into the city, there are a few large entrances for cars and such, and then there are also these funky little winding passageways for pedestrians. 

Inside, Lucca is dotted with churches large and small, and narrow twisting streets connect everything.  Basically, it looks exactly like what you would imagine a small Tuscan town to look like – piazzas, stucco and red tiled houses, shuttered windows with laundry hanging out to dry, fountains and Italian flags everywhere (hooray, World Cup!).  And I’m pleased to report that Lucca has nary a fast food restaurant or a Starbucks. 

My first night in Lucca, I suckered a very nice German girl named Jennifer into having dinner with me.  I’m not sure she knew what she was in for.  After some research, I picked out a little place called Trattoria da Leo…  After wandering around the same neighborhood for about 20 minutes, I still couldn’t find it.  Anyone who knows me knows what a common occurence this is — um, I’m sure it’s right around here, um, maybe to the left or maybe down this street?  Like I said, I’m not sure Jennifer knew what she was in for.  We found the restaurant eventually, once we circled the proper block at least ten times.  We snagged a nice outdoor table, ordered the acqua frizzante and red wine and settled in.  To our right was a group of three Italian women, one of whom was cradling a little boy, maybe 18 months old or so.  The women (all of whom were smoking) took turns passing the baby around the table for unabashed adoration –  smooch, smooch, smooch, puff, puff, puff.  One of the women lifted her glass of wine to the baby’s lips for a small sip.  Yep, we’re not in America anymore.  And Italians have a longer life expentancy than us?

The food was simple but very good — tortellini en brodo and vitello tonatto.  And a quartino of house wine (which was a perfectly acceptable Sangiovese) was only one Euro more than the liter of sparkling water.  This is definitely not New York.  On the way back to the hostel, Jennifer and I passed a table set up with three women pouring what appeared to be free tastes of wine.  Bella!  I walked over and inspected the bottles, which were white wine from the nearby Montecarlo DOC.  The women wore aprons that said something to the effect of  ‘Sommelier di Italia’ so I apoloigized for not speaking Italian, but managed to convey the fact that I was a sommelier, too.  Ah, the international language of wine.  I asked, Vermentino?  No, they said, vermentino e sauvignon blanc e chardonnay.  Finally, something I could understand!  The wine was minerally and fresh, with a surprisingly long finish.  And it was free, too.  I’m now in a country where impromptu wine tastings just happen.  Enough said.

Besides inexpensive trattorias, Lucca is lined with gelato shops and small cafes, as well as more expensive restaurants.  I’m still gettting used to the pattern of Italian life — awake early in the morning to have a cappucino and small pastry, big meal midday, nap, and a small dinner or snack around 8 or 9 p.m.  And the food is filling!  Maybe that’s why everyone is so skinny.  Or maybe it’s the cigarettes, but still, after just a little bit of cheese or cured meat, I’m full.  And gelato is about twice as filling as ice cream (don’t even get me started on the chemical mess that is Tasti-di-Lite).

Oh, and here’s something else great about Lucca — there’s free mineral water everywhere!  I guess that a natural spring runs through the city, so every few blocks or so, there’s a public fountain to take a sip or to fill up empty bottles.  The city has even handily placed ‘nutritional info’ plaques next to each fountain, in case you wanted to know what the mineral content of your water is.

The water tastes clean, almost a little sweet.  Every evening, by the fountains families drive up or bike (bicycles seem to be very big here — even the elderly pedal everywhere, with their purchases inside their little wicker bike baskets) and fill up several empty liter bottles.  It seems like a wonderful alternative to regular tap water.  Somehow, I don’t think that Jersey City has any fresh spring water running underneath it, though.

Also, I’ve discovered the wonder that is the local gastronomia.  Lucca has bakeries, wine shops, fruit and vegetable shops, olive oil shops, etc., but the gastronomia is sort of like the corner deli — a little bit of everything.  Every few blocks, there is a new gastronomia, some nicer than others.  In the front of the store, there are baskets of fresh bread.  One wall usually has wine and one wall has a glass refrigerated case for the cheese, cured meats, fresh pasta (oh, to be liberated from boxes of dried pasta!) and some prepared foods, like panini.  Then in the back, there is bottled water, fruit and some boxed things.  And everything is cheap, like maybe half the price such ‘gourmet’ items would fetch in New York. 

This got me thinking.  Why are handmade, artisinal foods like fresh bread so expensive back home?  I remembered a point Michael Pollan made in The Omnivore’s Dilemma — one of the biggest problems with modern convenience food in America is that it’s irresponsibly priced.  Consumers like me complain that real food (i.e. fresh fruit, good quality cheese, etc.) is expensive compared to fast food or processed food, but the relaity is that our wacky subsidies and/or consumer advertising culture make the price of meals at McDonald’s or a package of Oreos artificially low.  So it’s not so much that real food is too expensive so much as it is that fast food is too cheap.  The price is paid elsewhere, as in environmental damage or in the extra pounds Americans carry around with them.  But anyway, getting back to the gastronomias in Italy…  My other realization is that for the residents of Lucca, the fresh bread and aged goat cheese aren’t luxuries.  Wonder bread and Kraft cheese simply don’t exist; it’s not possible to buy them anywhere in the town.  Thus, the food that would be ‘gourmet’ in New York is just their regular, everyday food, so it’s cheap.  Now that’s some food for thought.

That’s all for now, but stay tuned for a few details about my side trip into Florence, as well as my next stop, Modena. 

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