The Italian obsession with good food begins at an early age and seems to be leading to a long and healthy lifetime, writes Paddy Agnew in Rome
A couple of weeks ago, our 14-year-old daughter Roisin went to stay with Giulia, a teenage Neopolitan friend. One night as everyone sat down to dinner, Giulia's father pronounced enthusiastically: "We're so lucky to be Italian. Our food is the best in the world."
That remark, perhaps kindly offered for the benefit of the foreign visitor, is nothing unusual. Quite simply, millions of Italians have not the slightest doubt but that their diet is the best in the world. What is more, research project after research project, usually carried out by pale-skinned and ill-nourished Anglo-Saxons, confirms them in this belief.
Earlier this week, Giulia's father and millions of Italians like him had their opinions confirmed one more time, when yet another survey suggested that not only is the Mediterranean diet the best in the world, but that it also helps people to live longer. Carried out by scientists from Harvard Medical School and the Biomol laboratory in Philadelphia, this latest research claims to have identified "key ingredients" in both olive oil and red wine which may be the secret to a healthy and long life.
Frankly, teach your Italian granny to suck eggs! In a country where food is not just a way of life but also just about the only topic that is even discussed more than football, it seems to be stating the glaringly obvious to suggest that olive oil and red wine combine to form a magic elixir.
Mind you, lest anyone had missed the point, the story was carried on prime-time television newscasts last Monday.
To the Italian mind, food is the alpha and omega of existence. When we first arrived here years ago, we would be amused by those Italian friends who would cheerfully head off on their holidays abroad complete with kilos of pasta and parmigiano. For them, this was normal behaviour. What else were they expected to eat?
After nearly two decades in Italy, we have the same problem. French, Spanish, English and (even) Irish food, whilst often delicious and more varied than Italian food, now seem much heavier on the stomach, harder to digest. Clearly, the almost total absence of butter, cream, lard and white sugar helps, as does the fact that a pasta-oriented diet greatly reduces meat consumption. Italy has to be one of the few countries in the world where a vegetarian can sit down in a restaurant knowing that he/she can happily choose from maybe one-third of the normal menu, thanks to pastas and salads.
Clearly, too, the preponderance of in-season fruit and vegetables, not to mention the nationwide sacred devotion to salads, fish, pasta and the caprese (a salad made from tomatoes, mozzarella and basil), also helps. The fact that the whole lot gets doused or cooked in olive oil and then washed down with a good Chianti wraps it up. Italian food is best.
When Roisin first attended the local primary school, neighbours informed us immediately that the cooking at the school was excellent. When one went to pick up Roisin at the end of the day, teachers would report faithfully on what she had eaten (and how much), as well as on bowel movements (or not). Irrelevant didactic considerations such as the formation of letters, paintings done or songs sung were never mentioned. As the man said, food is a way of life in these parts.
Those were the days too, when Roisin's babysitter, Manuela, used to keep a special little bottle of olive oil, just for her. This was oil that had come from the first pressing (spremuto) of Manuela's own olives, a first spremuto which is always considered the most nutritious.
In those days too, when shopping with little Roisin, if you asked for eggs, it was immediately taken for granted that you required free-range (uova da bere) eggs. No serious mother would consider anything else for their little toddler.
Not long ago, we visited friends who had recently moved into a new house in the suburbs of Rome. Whilst Roberto, who runs a huge haulage business, was showing us around the new premises, he proudly stopped by the "orto" (vegetable garden) to show us some of his splendid artichokes, destined for his dinner table. For him, getting the orto up and running quickly was a priority for the new house.
Our neighbour, Giorgio, is a skilled and successful Rome-based physiotherapist. Yet when he gets out to the village at weekends, he is straight into the orto, weeding here, watering there and generally making sure that his collection of lettuce, tomatoes etc are up to scratch and ready for his table too.
For many Italians, the desire to eat "roba genuina" (genuine healthy food) is paramount. Via their city allotment or the grandad or uncle's orto out in the country, they usually manage it too. Food that arrives under plastic and not with earth or leaves attached is still seen as distinctly second-rate.
Italians instinctively have the measure of food, rarely eating to excess and always eating complementary foods. Some years ago, I came across former Arsenal and Juventus footballer Liam Brady in Naples prior to a football match. Talking about life back in Britain, Brady remarked on the lack of professionalism on the part of British and Irish footballers as compared to their Italian counterparts with regard to dietary matters.
Italian footballers, he suggested, instinctively know how to look after themselves, when to eat protein and when to eat carbohydrates and, of course, not to drink to excess. His observation, I replied, might be extended to include the entire nation, not just its footballers. Brady could only agree.
Our Roisin, who has lived all her life in Italy, would agree as well. Once during the annual Irish holidays, when she was only six years old, a kindly waiter asked her what she wanted to eat. The reply was immediate: "Pasta. I want pasta. Anything, just as long as it is pasta."
Pasta, unfortunately, was not on the menu. Giulia's father, you see, was right. Italians are lucky to be Italian.