monthly emails: febbraio 2022

I nearly forgot to write this email this month…things have ramped up incredibly in just the past few days as March has magically appeared and we’re into full-swing, in-person coursework.

I start this email from the back corner of our Food Psychology class where the only room’s outlet hides. We’re discussing and critiquing a case study of the family paradox on food preferences, which hypothesized in the ‘90s that parents who agree exert more influence over preferences. This course has a lot of cross-over with my previous anthropological studies and recalls some of my studies from undergrad. Our class, a highly diverse conglomeration of world food cultures, is quick and strong to critique the study…118 students from an Indiana university hardly compares to the realities of metropolitan German households or being raised by grandparents or eating foods like kimchi instead of casserole. It’s in moments like these that I’m really in awe of the sheer amount of differences yet equally large amount of conviviality we have in our learning spaces. We’re all working on two different projects classes, a Food Communications project on salsiccia di Bra, a raw beef sausage from this area, and a Food Psych project on how ideas can be used to change people’s food choices (and hopefully the food system). Within this timeline I’m still working with the student body to get Tavole Academiche open for professors and visiting chefs, may take on a position as Treasurer for the Student Council, am completing a bit of my Roots and Routes Intercultural Collaborations internship (which admittedly I am glad to be over with…that program needs a lot of development!), and getting ready for personal travel. March is sure to be busy!

Most of this month was spent on the sunny terrazza of our house in San Michele. With virtual as an option until February 28, and the weather getting up to 18 or 19 C every day, it was hard to ignore the potential of sunny-day studies and virtual class. And so, I taught my roommates a thing or two about being a Floridian and set up sun tea, snacks, and tracked the sun’s rise and descent every day to get optional Vitamin D exposure. It was a weird shock coming back to class in person – having to socialize and to actually dress up in classroom-appropriate clothing felt like coming back from a Caribbean vacation.

I’ve had quite a few amazing culinary experiences this month. February has been a gift for my palate and stomach! We kicked off the first weekend of February with a pasta al scoglio terrace lunch. Gimmo, the “mussel man” of the hour, cooked a big ole pot of pasta with seafood from the market in Alba. What started as a well-planned morning was ran off the tracks by not one but two parasites found in the baccala (dried and salted cod), which thankfully Gimmo found when slicing the filets after hydrating. Had we not seen those, we wouldn’t be alive – we sent off photos of the parasites to one of our professors notified us to the fact that one of the two parasites is deadly. It’s certain to say Gimmo had words with the individual who sold it to him. We hopped in the car and drove off to where we thought there was a seafood vendor. Turns out, the vendor lists their storehouse address on Google Maps but in reality are at the market for retail sales in Alba. So after a neat hour and a half backroad tour of the Roero region, we made it to the market for a seafood selection (and two free filets after we shared our cod horror story). Back in Bra, a group of my girlfriends joined us up at the house and brought wine, salads, flatbreads, baked goods, tea, and fruits and veggies. It was a beautiful terrace spread on a sunny Saturday – a surreal moment.

That terrazza holds some magical power, I swear. There’s really something to be said for physical spaces and layouts as it relates to food. Last night, Gimmo had friends over from his program, six guys and me. One of them, Lorenzo di Pollenzo, is a meat aficionado – he could name every breed, every cut, every best use. He formerly worked for an importer and brought with him Albertan Angus, which we grilled over the fireplace and served with chimichurri and quinoa salad. The whole room smelled of wood burning and beef fat, only cut by the occasionally cold burst of air from the terrazza where smoke breaks and fresh air were sought. Our patterned tiled floor with the glow of yellow lamps against the white walls made the kitchen cozy, warm, welcoming, slow, and relaxing. A truly homely setting.

The sense of familiarity is growing on me here. I cringe when I think about my reluctance and uncertain pit-in-the-stomach feelings I had when walking around my first two weeks here. What was I so afraid of? Besides the occasional bitter old Italian lady, which I really only find midday at the supermarket (eerily similar to Florida), everyone here is pleasant or minding their own business. Somewhere in the past month, studying abroad has slipped into living abroad and, hopefully, working abroad. Maybe it was when I was greeted by name at the local wine bar, or being able to suggest a restaurant or café to a new student, or finding conscious oblivious peace when completing bureaucratic procedures; one day, at one moment or another, I really asked myself, “Are you going back? Will you go back?” Food for thought. No, I don’t have the answer. Timelines here work differently than back in the States. There lacks a looming cloud of future plans and workflows. There is more on the focus of here, now, doing what you are good at and love, and enjoying life while doing it. So, that’s just what I’ll do.

The next weekend I head to London with my friend Marisa to visit Callum just in time for the Eng. V. Ire. Six Nations match. It’s been a familiar reprieve to find other rugby fans here – sometimes, in our studies and our world, we get far too deep into the gastronome mindset, living and breathing food, and burnout seems close behind. To sit and watch a sport over a beer has this tinge of normalcy, downshifting into average daily life. After London, I come back for a week before I slip off to Dublin and then Waterford for a long weekend to visit a high school friend, Isabel, who just moved there for work from the States. Then back again for a Tash Sultana concert in Milan and a few days later to Croatia on our second study trip. With the Ukrainian-Russian war and subsequent crises, we’re staying tuned to see how that visit might go, if at all.

Although I’ve been exposed to war through various mediums and context, I’ve never lived in the same continent as an ongoing war. Even when I lived on a Naval base in Bahrain for a few months it felt more like a college campus than a neighboring island to Saudi Arabia and conflict zones. Being here as war breaks out has brought to my attention events and experiences only briefly encountered on Instagram timelines or headlines on the web, from US sources soaking in American bias. Active protests, supply donation gathering, discussions and safe spaces, day-to-day updates, NATO and UN critics and supporters, soaring gas prices. Being engaged in politics and international relations is also different here. Involvement is both personal and collective, non-binary, and based in morals and ethics more than political lines. Certainly there are outstanding examples as within any place, but perhaps this side of the political realm is far more present being on a university campus in a university town.

I’m wrapping up this email sitting in the same spot in the back of sake class now. Yep, class about sake. This is the second part of our brief but intensive study into Japanese beverage culture, specifically looking at the chado matcha tea ceremony and sake production. We have a seminar/conference tonight on “Cooks and Diets: The Kitchen Accounts of an Aristocratic Household in Florence, 1895-1904” prior to a private student-hosted wine tasting, where we’ll be sampling some “really nice bottles” and cheese produced by the student during her school internship on a goat agricoltura (an agribusiness-like farm). The reality I live in incredibly niche, and it seems borderline cliché when I write out my daily itinerary like so. Yet, this is life for us university students here – we dive in deep. Whether that’s deep into the vineyard, deep into the frying pan, or deep into the text, we’re all learning from professionals, academics, and each other almost every moment.

I’m working on being more diligent with recording my anecdotes, and may hopefully have some accompanying audio clips to upload to my blog. So, for now, let’s just both opt to ignore it until I actually start giving you all something worth looking at. My writing this is serving as personal shaming and reminder-making for myself. Photos and videos on my shared album will have to do, along with what little (or lot) I can fit into these emails.

Sending each and every one of you good vibrations during these extra weird, extra different, extra busy times. To my friends and family entering the high swing of season in Florida – may the odds be ever in your favor.

Warm salutations from the chilly but bright Piemonte