Originally published in Darling Magazine, 2016
The most unforgettable meal of my life was a bowl of gorgonzola ravioli consumed at a cozy trattoria in Florence, a city renowned for its rich culinary and artistic heritage, during the summer of 2003. I shared it with friends, both new and old, and we've spent reunions discussing our insatiable desire to recreate the experience.
This story is not about that meal. Not directly, anyway.
Nearly eleven years after that fateful meal, I found myself stumbling, jet-lagged and sweaty, through the tourist-laden avenues of beloved Firenze. As my stomach started to rumble, I assumed my feet would follow the inner roar to the restaurant that I have now come to consider as holy ground. Surprisingly, my yearning for an afternoon of peace led me away from the dish I have craved all these years.
Instead, I found myself wandering into the unassuming patio of a lesser-known cafe, drawn by the glimpse of a young woman. Her auburn hair glowed in the sunlight, stray strands lifted by a passing breeze. With a glass of wine in one hand and a bowl of olives within reach of the other, this stranger sat engrossed in a novel, yet somehow seemed to beckon me to join her in this calm repose.
Five minutes later, I was seated in my own ray of sunshine, retreating into a nostalgic reverie as I sipped a crisp glass of rosé. The waiter seemed to float through the scene as he placed a simple spread in front of me. Sliced tomatoes, fresh cheese, and a drizzle of olive oil — it’s a meal that I’ve pulled together so often it borders on boring, but today, this meal was perfect.
For a brief period of time, the rest of the world gave way to the delightful community found between the pages of my own book. I was completely alone, yet surrounded by kindred spirits. Eventually, I forgot where I was. Following a juicy bite, a giggle (or four) escaped my lips, and then a nearby voice asked one of my favorite questions, “What are you reading?”
Glancing up, I met a face whose bright eyes and welcoming smile beamed almost as brightly as the ginger locks that first drew me there. Her brief question led to joined tables, extra bottles of wine, excessive bread, and last-minute changes to plans. Over the next twenty-four hours, we shared our stories over a handful of meals. We hiked to the hilltops, drinking Italian beers while looking over a foreign city that gracefully provided much-needed perspective for each of us. With each Sláinte and clinking of glass, we were liberated from pretense, and both humbled and delighted by the truths we were able to share — and continue to do so today.
Food encourages us to explore cultures both familiar and foreign, sparking curiosity and openness, and opening doors to activities and relationships we might otherwise overlook.
There is so much more I could share about this unique camaraderie built on a chance encounter. However, in the blur that has surrounded the edges of our friendship, what will always stand out to me with such vivid clarity is the way it began — with the breaking of bread. I was reminded that the best meals nourish much more than the body. They beckon us to slow down, to indulge in our senses, and connect with others. Sharing a meal brings us together through hospitality and expressions of friendship. Food encourages us to explore cultures both familiar and foreign, and provides a gateway to activities and relationships we might otherwise be too distracted to friendship.
And just like a perfect meal, life, when shared, is simply delicious.