​Each time I return to Italy, I am struck, on the one hand, by how chaotic much of daily life can feel, especially when it comes to city driving, and, on the other hand, the keen sense of ritual and mindfulness that exists around food. This contrasts so sharply with how I’ve been raised as a North American, where food is often wedged in between fixed time commitments and planned activities. In southern Italy in particular, even daily activities are generally specified not so much around fixed clock time, but around their relationship to a mealtime, and nowhere in southern Italy is this sense of ritual more distinct than around the daily noontime meal known as “pranzo.” 

​We were served southern Italian staples such as fresh pecorino cheese, prosciutto, and large chunks of tender semolina bread for the “aperitivo,” grilled salted eggplant under olive oil and garlic for our side (“contorni”), and a red house wine in a decanter to wash it down. But our main dish, a “pepperonata” with red and green peppers, sweet Italian sausage, garlic and onion and then coated in egg yolk, and the skinned, salted zucchini in spaghetti-like strands that we had for a side dish were, according to our chef Nicoletta, “puro Albanese” (pure Albanian). In fact, after our appetizer and side dishes, there was so much food, we “skipped” both the first course (pasta) and second course (meat), and jumped straight to desert (fresh apricots) and coffee.