“An Italian Journey is wonderful. A book to read again and again.”
Alma Delia Jimenez-Guerrero
THE HEART OF THE JOURNEY
I didn’t know it at the time, but I was smitten by things Italian when I was eleven years old. I thought she was just a pretty girl. Her skin was olive, her hair dark, her figure slender, her face divine. Her brother, Rossy, was my best friend, and always had been. Their mother and father owned my favorite restaurant. I guess I didn’t know they were Italian because they didn’t advertise their Italian-ness. Heck, they didn’t advertise anything. They just served good meals and called the place White Café. I loved their food. I loved that whole family. I especially loved the times they invited me to join them for Sunday dinner at their home.
Back then I attached little significance to the fact that they were Italian. When you’re a kid, things just are. You don’t question how they got that way. I was not then raising children or grandchildren. I was just being a kid. Reasons weren’t so important to me then. But now I want to know more. I want to know why I love Italy. I know I’m not the only one to fall under the charm of things Italian. What is it about the way Italians eat and the way they live that is so appealing? Do I love Italy because of my sweet memories of childhood, or is there something about Italy that sets it apart for everyone?
I went to Italy with the hope that if I were willing to work alongside Italians picking their grapes and olives, they would invite me to sit with them at their tables. I hope that by eating with Italians, I will discover why people began falling in love with Italy long before I first succumbed to her charms. I’m convinced that if I break bread with Italians, they will share not only their food and wine with me, but their lives, their stories, and maybe even a few of their secrets as well.