assimilating

Everything I ate, saw, heard, felt, learned and more after a trip to a country I never expected to visit is, well, complex. Especially since I was there by myself surrounded by 6,000 plus delegates to an event that has enormous potential. Potential for what? To really transform the relationship the world had to food and everything surrounding it. Growing it, moving it, selling it, trading for it, making it, transforming it, sustaining it. As a cook (read organizer) it was frustrating to sit at workshops that did not involve interaction. There was a fair amount of 'preaching to the choir'. Lots of what was spoken was already known by most people there. Why not take the opportunity to use the time for creating action groups. Perhaps I missed the point and did not speak up when I should have. The most useful time was talking to other delegates. I will be the first to say that I am a terrible networker in a room full of people milling about; however, the energy there was enough that some powerful advocacy groups could have been formed with specific missions and tasks to adopt. Maybe they will develop after the fact. It is difficult to imagine as we are all returning to busy lives with many demands. My version would have been different and I will post what I think could be a model for the future after I hash out some other stuff and sort through it myself.

Italy itself? A grand mix of everything- inviting, foggy, beautiful, industrial, resentful, medieval- too much to describe as it generally is when experiencing a new place in 5 days. Focal point? The food. Obviously. Great letdown the first night when we were served gluey pre-fab gnocchi with a cream sauce that tasted like, well, cream with a few bits of ham in it. Made me want to cry as I was sitting in one of the world's food meccas. The advantage was that it could only get better. And it did. Breakfast the next morning was culatello from Antica Corte Pallavicina.

Things began to look up. This lovely goodness practically melted in my mouth and I was able to get a lot of information from the Canadian intern who was working at the farm. All the pigs are raised, slaughtered, butchered, cured, tied, aged and everything in a 600 year old building on the banks of the river Po. Talk about tasting the land! I have fallen in love with mold.

Tomorrow it is back to work with a 2 kilogram hunk of this beautiful pig to share with the kitchen. As life starts to unfold again my land, more will follow. Meanwhile, after moving vast distances in 48 sleepless hours, it is good to be where I hang my hat.