TASTES LIKE MORE When I was 18,1 worked as an au pair for an Italian family in Pesaro, a predictably middle-class seaside town on the east coast of Italy. They had four kids and they, especially the boy, were all tricky. They would not undress in front of me, I think because of a very Catholic upbringing. In the end I bathed them in their clothes.
But the most confusing thing to me were the meals, not only the food but the sequence. On my first night with the family, they served antipasti, plates of cured meat, a block of Parmesan my wolf-down cheese. When I had gobbled up everything that was around, including a huge bowl of ribollita, a thick, hearty bean soup made from leftovers including bread, the…
