A Food Coma

When I arrived in England, I breathlessly said to no one in particular, “I am never leaving here.” Instantly in love, it seemed I’d finally found where I was fated to be. Surely, there could be no more beautiful home than my little cottage house with the blue door and flowers in the windows.
Then I went to Italy. È bella! It is the most exquisite place, full of light that dances and turns the hills orange, purple and green. My hosts have a home in the country, in the central region of Le Marche, situated between the two villages of Ostra and Ostra Vetere. I have just five days here, yet I could imagine staying for a lifetime.
I was not in a tourist area by any means; there are no shops within walking distance, souvenir t-shirts or flashy restaurants. The closest village has four Catholic churches within one square mile if you’re in need of serious confession.
My love affair with Italy was quick and serious. I spent hours sitting among the olive trees, staring out into the freshly-ploughed fields. There were figs growing just outside my window so close that I could almost pick and eat them; if only my arms stretched far enough.
I was surrounded by natives, who gesticulate wildly and speak with graceful, passionate sounds.  Though I’ve been practicing my Italian all month, some learning is still in order. It’s become my responsibility to order in every restaurant – a most serious and precise transaction.
What arrives at the table each time is nothing short of magic. Large platters are piled high with soft pillows of gnocchi and delicate ribbons of tagatelle and porcini mushrooms. By the sea, we ate grilled monkfish with eggplants and fried anchovies. All of it is seasoned with the peppery taste of fresh olive oil and (the holy trinity of herbs) basil, oregano and thyme.
While every day here is a celebration, wherein I am surrounded by life, I find myself also thinking about loss.
Last week, publisher Conde Nast suffered major cutbacks and announced that Gourmet Magazine (among several trivial bridal and women’s titles) will soon fold. The news came as a serious blow to foodies everywhere.
Gourmet, the pinnacle of intelligent food and travel writing, will print its final issue in November after 68 years of excellence. Its pages were full of lush photography, tales of exotic trips and recipes that walked a constant line of mastery and imagination.
It was also the reason that I decided to dive into this career. Gourmet editor Ruth Reichl, a former New York Times restaurant critic, is my hero. I clipped pieces of her writing to hang on my fridge. Some day, some wonderful day, I wanted to work beside her.
Looking through the archives available on gourmet.com, I stumbled across a significant piece of writing from long ago.
From 1954 to 1956, the magazine published a series titled “A Gastronomic Tour of Italy,” about one man’s quest to explore Italy’s many regions, via the dinner table. The author, Samuel Chamberlain, opened his October 1954 column with: “Of all the roads leading to Rome, few are more rewarding than Gastromia.”
The series is every bit as sensual and entertaining as it sounds, which leaves a bittersweet taste when I think about all the years of excellent writing that could have carried on into the future.
A call from the States revealed another great misfortune; we’d lost a beloved family dog in an accident. I reeled from the pain of it. Lost in thought at the stove, I burned breakfast and had to start all over again. Both wounds were freshly opened with each trip to the market, where fat dogs happily romped about with their owners. I saw passionate cooks making gourmet cuisine at every glance.
But nothing really ends, just evolves. New animals will be born each day – among them, good dogs and good magazines alike. On my final night in Italy, we had a grand toast – to man’s loyal best friend; to a magazine; to decades of epicureans raised through the stylized monthly pages of a glossy rag; to seeing eating as a momentous act, a great unifier.
We will toast to friends loved and lost. And it will be delicious.
-The recipe for Asparagus and Prosciutto Crostini with Fonduta can be found in the online edition of this column.